


Fade to Black

by Teacandles



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Animal Death, Flowers, Language of Flowers, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, Stalking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2281005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teacandles/pseuds/Teacandles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Shaw never does things by halves. When he finds something he wants, he will do everything in his power to get it. And right now he wants nothing more than one Charles Xavier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One more loose end I have hanging around that needs to be tied up. I edited this from its original posting(s) to hopefully have a better timeline and more consistent characterization, but eh, only so much I could do with what I've got. I just figured someone who had read it before might want to see this in a place it could be found again, so here it is. Based on [this really old prompt](http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/7315.html?thread=12560275#t12560275). The POV stays third-person throughout, but it changes perspective from Shaw–Erik–Charles, generally in that order. I try to have each of them get at least one highlight per chapter.

Sebastian Shaw had always been fond of night walks and tonight was no exception, even if the weather was starting to turn. Something about the darkness and the cool night air wrapping itself around him was calming, soothing, and he’d made a habit of visiting the little patch of trees and grass that people had designated as a park whenever he got the chance. The sound of gravel crunching under his feet echoed loudly in his ears, drowning out the faint rush of passing cars nearby. The city was never truly quiet, always rushing, always awake, and he found he liked things best that way.

The pathway twisted sharply before him, the line of trees surrounding him thinning as he walked. The temperature was dropping fast. Shaw could see the faint wisps of his breath rising up from his lips to dissolve into the air, and he shrugged his coat a little tighter around his shoulders to ward off the growing chill. Perhaps it was time to cut his walk short. He quickened his pace.

It wasn’t long before one of the many benches scattered throughout the area came into view. Normally, he would have passed it by, paying it no attention whatsoever, but tonight was different. Someone was sitting there, a man with his eyes locked on one of the side streets, quite alone and looking for all the world like he’d just lost something precious.

Shaw paused and studied the figure before him. The man’s clothes were of decent quality and looked to be clean. There were no bags or other assorted items lying around nearby. Probably not homeless, then. Approachable, at the very least.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

The man on the bench looked up, and Shaw’s heart froze in his chest. _His eyes. He has the most beautiful blue eyes._ He’d always had a fondness for blue eyes.

The stranger’s lips tilted up in the first hints of a strangely sad smile. “Yes, I suppose it is.” A light breeze wrapped around them, brushing long brown strands of hair from the man’s forehead.

Shaw shifted his hands about in his pockets and tilted his head toward the empty space on the bench. “Mind if I join you? You look like you could use some company.”

The man shook his head and scooted over a little more toward the end, making even more room for Shaw to sit. Shaw set himself down on the smooth wood seat and leaned back, taking in the scenery a little. The man beside him was silent and still, hunched over his bent knees with his hands clasped tight in front of him. So tense. Almost like a rabbit prepared to spring away from a predator. Shaw rather liked the comparison.

“So what’s your story?”

The man startled and fixed him with a nervous look. “I’m sorry?”

Shaw smiled down at him. He was charming, this one. “Why are you out here? I rarely see anyone out here at this time of night, and,” he looked the stranger up and down, his grin widening, “you certainly don’t look like you’re homeless.”

“Homeless? No.” He looked down at his hands and gave a tiny shake of his head. “Though I’m not that certain I want to go home at the moment.”

“Lover’s spat?”

“Something like that.” His voice was soft, and the timbre of it sent shivers down Shaw’s spine.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.” They fell into silence. Shaw lifted his arms up around the back of the bench. His eyes trailed over the curve of the man’s back, the lift of his collar against the brush of brown hair covering the back of his neck. The man looked back out toward the street, and the yellow light of the nearby lamps threw away the shadows from his face. God, but he had the most beautiful blue eyes.

The stranger heaved out a heavy sigh and lifted his fingers to draw the fall of his bangs away from his eyes. His hands were almost completely covered by thick woolen gloves, but the fingers of the glove were missing, the edges frayed like he’d cut them off.

“Anything I can do?”

The man chuckled low in his throat before turning those lovely blue eyes on Shaw once more. “How? Are the romantic problems of a total stranger really so easy to fix?”

Shaw shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. I have nothing invested in your relationship, you have nothing to lose from venting to a stranger, and I’m willing to listen. It sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

The man turned back to the street. His breath puffed out before him like smoke. Shaw would steal that breath if he could. “It’s nothing special. Just stresses building up on stresses—little things—and we fought. It happens to everyone at some point, I’m sure. We were both being stubborn, and I guess we stopped listening to one another in favor of yelling at some point. I left to clear my head.” He smiled gently, his thoughts elsewhere. “Knowing him, he’s probably out looking for me right now,” he whispered to the air. Shaw was fairly certain that he wasn’t supposed to hear the last part, but he made no comment, instead turning his eyes to the street before them.

Silence swept over them for a beat before Shaw pushed himself up from the bench. He shoved his hands back into his pockets, relishing the feel of the soft cotton against his skin, and noted the stranger watching his every move. He probably suspected that Shaw had heard that he was involved with another man. Shaw wouldn’t be surprised if the stranger thought he was disgusted with his choices, that perhaps Shaw was going to attack him. The stiffness in his shoulders belied his anxiety, and Shaw didn’t bother to correct him. This stranger looked so much better when he was on guard, tensed and ready to spring away on a moment’s notice.

Shaw lifted his gaze to the sky and wished not for the first time that the city lights didn’t block out the stars. Home was calling to him, and he started on his way, the gravel crunching satisfyingly under his feet once more.

But the thought of the man’s face, the gentle sweep of his hair, his beautiful blue eyes, stopped him. He turned to look behind him. The stranger was hunched even further over his knees, his chin buried in his hands. “He’s a lucky man, you know,” Shaw called out to him. The man lifted his head in surprise, and Shaw’s chest tightened as those eyes focused on him again. “He just doesn’t know how good he’s got it.”

He turned on his heel and headed toward home, putting the stranger out of his mind. It was a shame, but strangers were strangers. He hadn’t even bothered to learn the man’s name. And it wasn’t as though he’d ever see him again.

\---

Erik could feel the first tendrils of panic rising up in his gut as his eyes trailed back over to the clock. He and Charles had fought. About money. About Charles’s sister. About stupid trivial things that didn’t really matter right now because the temperature was dropping like a stone and Charles should have been home at least a half hour ago. He could see tiny tendrils of frost clinging to the metal railing of the fire escape outside.

He drummed his fingers on the table and eyed the cell phone sitting beside his hand. Its silence was mocking him. Charles hadn’t even bothered to call after running off into the night. _Though really, Erik, how can you blame him? He was just as angry as you were, and you know Charles. He’ll get over it once he gets his head clear. And then he’ll make you do all the laundry next week to make it up to him._ He smiled at the image of the shorter man chastising him about mixing up his socks or folding his shirts wrong. Erik had always been amazed at how worked up Charles could get over a sweater.

His smile faded as his thoughts turned back to the weather. No matter how angry Charles had been, he shouldn’t be out there right now. It was too cold, even if he’d pilfered Erik’s jacket from the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Erik picked the phone up and dialed in the number he knew by heart, pressing the device up against his ear. His heart was pounding so loudly that could barely hear the little chimes signaling through the speakers, letting him know that the call had connected. That was four rings. Only two left.

_Come on, Charles. Answer your phone._

“Hello, you’ve reached Xavier. I’m not around to pick up right now—” Erik ended the call with a soft curse. He didn’t need to hear the little recorded message that he’d heard a hundred times before. He needed to talk to Charles, not some machine with an overly formal recording of the man’s voice. Erik scowled, slamming his phone down hard on the table, and turned his attention back to the window.

The grungy side of the building across from theirs filled his vision, the ruddy brownish-red brick almost black in the dark. One of the streetlights must have gone out again. That wall was almost never dark. His fingers took up their tapping again and he fixed his gaze on the door. He should be out there right now, looking for him instead of sitting around doing nothing. Charles could have gotten mugged or picked up by some creep. Or maybe he was just taking his stubbornness up a notch and had decided to spend the night sleeping on a park bench. Erik’s frown deepened. That sounded an awful lot like something Charles would do if he were upset enough.

The clock in the hallway chimed, announcing the hour and drawing Erik’s patience to an end. He swiped his cell phone from the table and stormed over to the hall closet for a jacket. He’d just have to go out looking for Charles himself.

He burst from their apartment in a flurry of restless motion, almost forgetting to lock the door behind him in his haste. Charles had to be out here somewhere. He couldn’t have gone that far, not with how upset he’d been when he’d left. Charles had never been able to function well when he was upset.

“Charles!”

He looked for the man down side streets and alleyways, calling his name out in earnest, hoping in vain for a response. His heart was beating more and more wildly in his heart with each passing moment. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he happened to find Charles lying in the street, hurt or, god forbid, dead.

“Charles!”

There was a park nearby that Charles had always liked to go to. Maybe he’d wandered over there. Erik let his long legs carry him there, but it was deserted. He was panicking now, and he couldn’t help but think of how Charles would chastise him for losing his cool.

_Really now, Erik. Calm down. I’m fine. I’ll be home soon._

He tried to calm his panting breaths and ward away the building pressure in his chest. Charles was fine. He was upset. They’d both been upset. He’d just gone for a walk to clear his head, calm himself down. He was  
okay. Unless someone saw him as an easy target and went after him. Erik would never live it down if Charles—

His phone was going off.

“Damn it,” he hissed as he fumbled with his pockets, trying to free the device from where it had decided to tangle itself within the confines of his pocket. His hands were shaking. That certainly wasn’t helping matters. When he finally managed to free the device he flipped it open without pausing to glance at the caller ID. “Hello?” He could see his breath pluming out before him. It was too damn cold to be out here right now.

“Erik?”

His heart gave a jolt and he nearly dropped the phone. “Charles! Charles, where are you? I’ve been looking for you everywhere, and—”

“I’m at home. I got in a few minutes ago to find the place dark.” Erik could hear something clicking sporadically in the background, light and quick, like a lighter. Charles was probably trying to light the stove to heat water for tea. He always seemed to do that when he was nervous or tired.

“I tried calling you. Why didn’t you answer?” He tried to keep the edge from his voice but had the sneaking suspicion that he’d failed in that. It took Charles a few seconds to answer, and his words were carefully chosen.

“I didn’t have my phone on me. I, ah, I left it in the bedroom. I only realized that when I came home to find you missing. I’m sorry to make you worry like that.”

Erik started down the side street leading toward the apartment. “We can talk about it later. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Are—” he swallowed and closed his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control. The streetlights seemed too bright all of a sudden. “Are you okay?”

Charles snorted. “Of course I am, Erik. I _can_ take care of myself, you know.”

“Could have fooled me.” Erik could hear Charles chuckling lightly in the background, and he felt himself relax. Things were going to be okay. Charles was safe at home, and they were going to talk everything out. He pressed the phone a little harder against his ear. “Charles?”

“Yes?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Erik. We can talk about it when you get home.” Charles’s voice was much softer when he next spoke. “Besides, I do believe that I hold just as much blame as you do.”

“I suppose.” He could see their building now. He quickened his pace, eager to get out of the cold. “Listen, Charles, I’m almost home. I’ll be up in just a minute or two.”

He could see Charles’s gentle smile clearly in his mind’s eye. Yes, things were going to be okay. “I’ll be here.”

\---

The first thing he noticed was the ringing in his ears. It was quick and steady, like a bell almost, but the pitch was a little too high. And he knew this sound from somewhere or another. He just couldn’t place it.

“Charles, shut that thing up before I get up and do it myself,” came a muffled grumble from just off to his left, bringing him back to reality.

Charles blearily lifted his head and blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. Erik was laid out beside him, his face half buried in his pillow, and Charles suddenly remembered. His alarm. That’s where the sound was coming from. He rolled over onto his side, reached across to his nightstand and tapped the little button atop the device, throwing the room into silence once more. He sighed as he looked at the green numbers staring back at him from the clock, glowing far too brightly in the darkness of predawn. It really was too early, but he didn’t have much time. He couldn’t afford to be late for work again.

Charles carefully slid his side of the covers away from his body and swung his legs around to hang over the side of the bed. His toes brushed against the floor, and he grumbled. The heater must have switched off during the night again. That or Erik had been stealing blankets. He could barely feel his feet as he pushed himself away from the bed toward the bathroom.

The toothpaste stuck a bit in its tube as he squeezed it out onto the fraying bristles of his toothbrush. He’d need to replace it soon. Erik could probably do with a new one too from the looks of it. The man that stared back at him from the mirror looked tired, absolutely miserable, and he frowned around the toothbrush in his mouth as he studied the dark rings circling the bottom of his eyes. He ran a hand through the disheveled ends of his hair and let out a heavy puff of air through his nose. Today was going to be miserable, wasn’t it? At least a shower would help him wake up.

Erik was still asleep when Charles emerged from the bathroom, his towel wrapped around his still dripping waist, and Charles smiled at the sound of the man’s gentle snores. Erik might be a morning person, but this was early even for him. Especially after the long night they’d had.

Charles didn’t bother flicking on the light as he shuffled over to the closet for his work uniform in an effort to let Erik sleep in just a little longer before Charles had to leave. He always hung the damn thing in the same place anyway. He shouldn’t need light to figure out where it he’d left it.

As he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, he suddenly found himself wrapped up in a pair of strong arms. Erik’s breath was warm against his neck, and his stubble was more than a little abrasive against his skin as he nestled his chin into the dip of Charles’s shoulder. Charles couldn’t help the breathy little laugh that escaped his lips. He hadn’t heard Erik get up.

“Good morning.”

“The ‘good’ in that statement is completely relative,” Erik mumbled against his neck, his voice still rough with sleep.

“I suppose that’s true. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Charles finished with his shirt and slowly extricated himself from Erik’s hold.

“Not really, but I will admit that the bed did get cold pretty fast without you there.”

“Sorry.” He lifted a hand to brush a finger over Erik’s cheek. Erik leaned a little into the touch. “At least you can get your run in a little early today.”

“Not sure that’s a plus. It looks like it’s freezing out there.”

“Make sure you wear a jacket then.”

“Very funny.” Erik yawned and stretched out his back. “Do you have class today?”

“Yes. At two. But I can still make lunch today if you’re not busy.”

“I think I’ll be free.” Erik smiled at him. “I can always give you a call if something unexpected pops up.”

Charles pulled Erik down for a quick kiss, his face pulled into a wide grin that mirrored that of the man in front of him. “Then it’s a date.”

\---

“You’re late again, Charlie.”

“It’s Charles, Tom. How many times do I have to tell you that?” He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up beside the one other that was already there. He spared a quick glance at his watch and frowned. “And no, I’m not late. You know the clock here runs slow.”

“Whatever. You’re still cutting it close. Ed would skin you alive if he was here.” He tossed a small ring of keys to Charles, who just barely caught them as they sailed past. “Now get your butt up to the front. You’re opening today.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled under his breath as he tied on the cream apron he was required to wear when he was behind the cash register. At least it had pockets that he could keep the keys in. His manager would kill him if he managed to lose them. He trudged out of the back and checked the cash register. Tom would be busy in the back for a while with the pastries while he got to work with coffee. Fun. At least this meant he didn’t have to make sandwiches today for the lunch crowd.

Charles sighed and started up the first pots of coffee to flush out the machines from anything that might have settled there overnight before he pulled out one of the cleaning rags from its nook near the sink and wet it down. The tables had to be cleaned and the floors swept before he could open the doors. His shoes shuffled lightly as he made his way over to the tables nearest the bathrooms. He’d need to check those too, make sure they had enough toilet paper and hand soap.

The sun was rising outside, painting the sky with the first hints of red and orange through the windows and throwing colors all across the inside of the small café. The smell of coffee and the pastries baking in the back filled the air, and Charles sighed contentedly as he swiped his rag across the table. He didn’t particularly like the hours, and Tom could be a pain in the ass, but he really did like his job. With his college expenses covered mostly by his teaching stipend, his wages from the café combined with Erik’s allowed them to live comfortably. Erik had been right. There was no reason to draw from Charles’s (admittedly impressive) inheritance fund and throw money around right now. Not even for Raven. Especially not for Raven. Or more specifically, Raven’s new beau.

He scowled and scrubbed harder at the table, trying to worry away a stain that had been on the table longer than he’d worked there at the shop. It was best not to think about these things. Raven could sort herself out for now. He’d be there with arms wide open whenever she needed him, but his pocketbook would remain shut.

Tom emerged from the back with the first tray of pastries, and he shot Charles a look before tilting his head toward the clock. He needed to pick up the pace. It was almost time to open.


	2. Chapter 2

It had to be fate. There was no other explanation for it.

Shaw couldn’t say just what it was that compelled him to enter that particular shop that morning. He had never had a strong affinity for coffee—it was a little too bitter to his liking, and drowning it in sugar and cream did little to raise his confidence in the drink’s merits—but the early meeting he’d had this morning had left him drained and in desperate need of caffeine. Coffee was easy enough to obtain and gave him the option of leaving the office to get it, unlike soda. This shop was within walking distance of the office and looked like it was locally owned, which was always a bonus.

He hadn’t expected to see the man from last night working the register. Even though little excursions like this were rare for him, Shaw wondered how he’d managed to miss the man all this time when he was right around the corner.

He stilled outside the shop, his eyes fixed on the glass. There the man was, the glare of the sun only slightly marring the blue of his eyes, and Shaw couldn’t breathe. Some greater power was giving him a sign, and who was he to squander such an opportunity?

He stepped inside the shop. The little bell hanging from the top of the door jingled as he entered, catching the attention of blue eyes. He threw the man a smile that was returned in earnest. This was perfect.

“Good morning,” the man greeted him. “How can I help you today?” Well, that wasn’t quite what he was expecting, but the man was at work, after all. It was only natural that he put on his best face for the customers. Shaw grinned even wider.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

That threw him—‘Charles,’ if the scuffed nametag pinned to his chest was to be trusted—off a bit, and his smile faded for a moment as he studied Shaw’s face. Suddenly, his eyes lit in recognition. “Oh! You’re the man from last night. At the park, right?”

“Ah, so I did leave an impression.”

Charles ducked his head down toward his chest. “I’m sorry about that. Last night, I mean.” A slight flush colored his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to pile my problems on you like that.”

“You did nothing of the sort. And even if you had, I would have brought it upon myself. I do remember being the one to ask you to tell me what was on your mind, not the other way around.”

“Yes, but…” Charles looked anxiously at the back, certain that his manager would be on his ass in a second if he were watching him right now, before gathering his resolve. “Let me buy you a coffee. As thanks. It’s the least I can do for you, since you kept me company last night. You… _do_ like coffee, right?”

Shaw chuckled low in his throat, amused by Charles’s enthusiasm. “Yes, all right. I’ll take your free coffee, but only if I can steal a few minutes of your time to go along with it.” His gaze moved up from the little name tag pinned to Charles’s chest to his blue, blue eyes. “You intrigue me, Charles.”

Charles smiled, and Shaw felt his breath hitch in his throat. Yes, the fates were definitely telling him something. He was connected to this man like he hadn’t been connected to anyone else in so long. He watched Charles’s lips as they formed his every word. It was hypnotizing. “Let me just pop on over to the back for a second and ask if I can take my break a few minutes early.”

Shaw nodded, pulling himself out of his daze. “I’ll be over there whenever you’re ready.” He pointed over to one of the small two-seated tables beside the large storefront window. “Just don’t forget my coffee. You did offer, after all,” he said with a wink. “Just give me whatever blend you like best with as much cream and sugar in there as you can muster. I’ve a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“I won’t forget.”

“I’m holding you to that.” He strode over to the table and set himself down, studying the few people that passed by the window. It was quiet, but he supposed that the weather had something to do with it. The forecasters on the morning news had said that it was supposed to snow tonight, perhaps even as early as this afternoon, and judging by the clouds gathering along the edges of the skyline, Shaw found it hard to disagree.

He quickly found his thoughts interrupted by the gentle sensation of warm cardboard pressed against his fingertips. Charles was there across the table from him, holding one of the shop’s coffee cups. Shaw took it without hesitation, and Charles sat down, the smile never leaving his face. His gaze was focused on the window.

“It’s cold out there, isn’t it?”

“It was when I came in,” Shaw remarked, testing out the temperature of his coffee with a gentle sip at the opening in the plastic lid. Charles just propped his head up in his hand and watched the passers-by, his expression almost vacant.

“How did things go?”

That got Charles’s attention. His blue eyes were fixed on Shaw once more. “Hmm? What do you mean?”

“Last night. You said that you and your lover had a fight. Did everything end up working out?”

Charles smiled again. “Yeah, actually.” He straightened in his seat and laced his fingers together in front of him on the table. “We got most of it sorted out. He was being practical, and I was being difficult.” He looked up at Shaw, their eyes locking. “I’m surprised that you put up with me as long as you did, I was so petulant last night.”

Shaw shrugged and took another drink of his coffee. It was sweet, just the way he liked it, and with just enough milk to mask most of the coffee flavor he’d always hated so much without overwhelming everything. He wasn’t sure what Charles had done to it, but the man was a genius. “You seemed perfectly reasonable to me. I don’t see how—” Ringing. The little alarm on his watch was going off, signaling that it was time for him to get back to the office. He scowled at the thing before jamming his thumb up against the button on the side to make it stop. Of course something like this would crop up to cut things short. “Listen, Charles, I need to get going.” He slid out of his seat, trying to ignore the way Charles’s hair swept down over his forehead or the way the man touched his face when he was listening. “Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

The smile never left Charles’s face. “Perhaps you will.”

Shaw made to leave, his little cup of coffee clutched tight in his hand, but the sound of Charles’s voice made him take pause. He looked down at the man and shook his head. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I didn’t hear you.”

“I said I never did catch your name.”

“It’s Shaw.” He held out his hand for Charles to take. “Sebastian Shaw.”

Charles’s palm was warm and soft against his in complete contrast to his strong grip. “Charles Xavier. I hope to see you around, Mr. Shaw.”

\---

Late. Of course he was running late _now_ of all times. Erik checked his watch one more time with a soft curse and pushed through a heavy stream of people as they meandered past. He willed the time to slow so that he could make it before Charles gave up waiting for him and went somewhere warmer. But then again, Erik was always so upset whenever Charles was running late (which was all the time) that he knew Charles wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to harp on him about his lapse in time management. He grimaced and swerved around the corner, his eyes sweeping the area for that familiar grey coat that Charles was always so insistent upon wearing.

Charles was there, calmly waiting at their assigned meeting place, his gaze lost on the people passing him by. He was hunched up under the heavy layers of his coat to ward off the deepening cold, and Erik couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Charles would probably be a lot warmer if he stepped away from the wall he was pressed up against.

“Charles!” he called out with a wave of his hand. Charles turned toward him, and Erik could see a smile light up the other man’s face. He picked up the pace, doing his best to dodge the people around him as he made his way down the street.

“Erik.” Charles wrapped him up in a hug, his arms tight around Erik’s waist. Erik wanted nothing more than to reach down and capture the shorter man’s lips in a kiss, but he restrained himself. Charles was never one for more intimate public displays of affection. Hugs were fine, but kisses were to be had in moderation. Perhaps later on when they were at home he could shower the other man with them, but this was enough for now. Erik could never get enough of touching Charles.

He sighed and leaned into the embrace, content to let the brief contact with the other man’s body warm him. “I was starting to believe that you’d forgotten about me,” Charles murmured jokingly into Erik’s sleeve before pulling back to get a better look at the other man’s face.

Erik couldn’t contain his laughter at that. His breath plumed up before him like smoke. “You know better than that, Charles. How could I forget about my meal ticket? A free lunch is a free lunch, after all.” Charles just snorted and shoved him back playfully.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love me anyway.”

“True enough.” Charles reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Even if you’re running fifteen minutes behind.”

“Well, you would know a thing or two about being late, now wouldn’t you?” he chuckled. “I got held up by Esther. You know how she can be.” Erik wrapped his hand around Charles’s, his fingers brushing against the soft knit of those stupid fingerless gloves his boyfriend always insisted on wearing. “So, where were you thinking we should eat today? I’ve got an hour or so before I have to get back, and I’m sure you want to get some reading done before you head off to class.”

“How about the little place off sixteenth? The food there is always good, and it’s not far from here.”

“Sounds good to me.” He started off down the street, tugging Charles along behind him.

“Erik,” Charles panted as he caught up, his legs pumping to match Erik’s long stride. He was gently pulling back on his hand, but Erik refused to lighten his grip. “Erik, people are staring.” Charles was glancing around, his face flushed red right down to the tips of his ears with more than just the cold.

Erik just shook his head and smiled even wider. “Let them. What have we got to be afraid of, Charles?” He stopped and drew the other man close to his side, pressing a light kiss into Charles’s hair. “I love you,” he murmured quietly, “and I don’t think I should have to hide that. It’s something to be proud of. Now,” he pulled Charles forward by the hand once more, and this time Charles didn’t pull back. “Let’s go get us something to eat.”

\----

The diner was one they frequented often, both for the good food and the good memories.

Erik leaned back in his chair and grinned wide at the sight of Charles gingerly curling his hands around the little white mug in front of him. “Going to make love to it, too? With the way you’re going, I’m sure that tea would love to take you home tonight.”

“Oh be quiet. Just because some of us can actually appreciate the finer things in life doesn’t mean that you have to be jealous.”

“Whatever you say, darling.”

Charles shook his head and turned his attention back to his tea. Tiny flakes of snow began to waft past the window. It was going to be a cold one tonight.

Erik took a sip of his coffee. It wasn’t as good as the brew they served at the café where Charles worked, but it was decent, and he very much liked the way it warmed him with every drink. He watched the tips of Charles’s fingers as they brushed against his mug, the pink of his skin in sharp contrast to the white ceramic. “Charles?”

“Hmm?”

“You know what’s coming up, don’t you?”

Charles fixed him with a look. “Erik, I’ve been up since three this morning and this, oddly enough considering my place of employment, is the first touch of caffeine I’ve had all day. Forgive me if I’m not exactly up for guessing games right now.”

“My, someone’s grumpy today.”

“You try working a full eight-hour day, being bright and chipper to every person you come across, on what barely constitutes as four hours of sleep, and then we’ll talk.”

“You do have me beat there. I got in six hours and I only have to deal with Esther.” He smoothed his hands over the table as he tried to steady the rapid beat of his heart. No more games. “It’s our anniversary in two weeks, Charles.”

Charles shot up in his chair and counted the days in his head. “I…I think you’re right. I hadn’t thought about it until now.”

Erik reached across the table and held Charles’s hand in his own. “Four years, Charles.”

“Has it really been that long?” He leaned forward and propped his chin up with his empty palm. “How did I ever survive?”

“I’m not sure myself,” Erik chuckled. “But I do consider myself pretty damn lucky that you decided to keep me.”

“You make it sound like you were a stray dog that followed me home.”

“How do you know I wasn’t?”

Charles chuckled and squeezed Erik’s hand before moving back to his tea. “So what do you have planned for this year? I do recall that it was my turn to sweep you off your feet last year, and now you have to return the favor.” It was a running tradition for them: after Charles’s over-the-top romantic gestures for their first anniversary, Erik had been determined to return the favor, and he had. Then Charles had to go and outdo him last year.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Well, I would, actually.”

Erik just grinned and sipped at his coffee. He could see their waitress approaching with their dishes in hand out of the corner of his eye. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

\---

Charles wasn’t sure what it was, but he couldn’t make himself go back to sleep. Erik’s body was warm against his back, the man’s arms wrapped loosely around Charles’s torso as they had been for most of the night, and the room was as dark as it ever got with the faint light of the streetlights coming in through the window. By all accounts he should have been more than comfortable enough to have gone back to sleep some time ago, but his mind just wouldn’t shut itself off.

His eyes sought out the dim green glow of the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly an hour before his alarm was supposed to go off, but the restless feeling in his gut wouldn’t let him be. He turned his eyes to the window. He followed the trail of several fat white flakes of snow as they drifted past the glass before looking back over at the clock. Not even a minute had passed, and he was nowhere nearer getting to sleep than he had been a half hour ago. It was time to get up.

He slowly pried Erik’s arms away from his waist, ignoring the soft protests coming from the other side of the bed.

“Mmng, Charles, what are you—”

“Shh.” Charles managed to twist himself around to face Erik. He smiled at what he could see of the man’s sleepy expression in the dark and ran his fingers over the stubble that had sprung up on Erik’s chin overnight. The skin was warm and rough under his hands. He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Erik’s lips. “Go back to sleep,” Charles murmured softly, stroking his fingers through Erik’s hair. “I’m just going to go get something to eat.”

“Mmkay,” Erik sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing back into the mattress. His breath quickly evened out as he fell back to sleep.

Charles slid from the bed and shuffled over toward the bathroom, careful to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake up Erik again. He wasn’t sure why exactly he felt so awake, but he’d take advantage of the feeling while it lasted. Perhaps he could actually have breakfast this morning without having to deduct it from his paycheck.

The linoleum of the bathroom floor was cold against the skin of his feet, and he brushed his teeth as quickly as possible, eager to get under the warm spray of the shower. Of course, he forgot that the pipes needed a few seconds to warm up before he’d get anything other than water that had to be just a few degrees short of turning to ice. He swore and jumped back from the stream, waiting rather impatiently for the temperature to turn. Once the water was warm enough for him to stand, Charles ducked under the showerhead, finding himself calming with every passing second that the warm water rushed over him. The muddy feeling that had clouded his brain was fading fast.

The mirror was completely fogged over when he emerged from the shower, feeling much more relaxed than he had before he’d gone in. He crept out into the dark bedroom and quickly got himself dressed, quickly reaching into the closet to grab a heavy sweater that he shrugged on over his work shirt. He wouldn’t be leaving for a while yet, and the kitchen was always cold in the morning, no matter how high they set the thermostat. He didn’t realize until after he’d entered the kitchen and turned on the lights that the sweater he’d taken was one of Erik’s, which would certainly explain why the sleeves were so long. Oh well. Erik wouldn’t mind.

He padded over to the stove, doing his best to ignore the way the linoleum chilled his feet as he puttered about, and set the kettle on to boil. Tea sounded good.

He gazed out the tiny window above the sink at the red brick building outside and the small alleyway below. A thin layer of snow had fallen overnight to dust the tops of the dumpsters below with white. Walking to work this morning was going to be unpleasant, judging by the sheen on the sidewalks. Snow, he could deal with; ice was another matter entirely. He grimaced and turned away, heading for the cupboard for a cup and perhaps a plate for whatever he decided to eat. It was best not to think about work right now.

He placed his dishes on the table and walked over to the fridge. There really wasn’t much in there. He promised to pester Erik about picking up some groceries when he got home tonight. 

He pulled out the milk and one of the eggs he’d boiled two nights before. It wasn’t much, but he was so used to having little or nothing to eat in the mornings that he didn’t trust his stomach to handle much more than the egg and tea. And there wouldn’t be much to clean up, which was always a plus.

He sat down at the kitchen table and began peeling away the shell of his egg. The kettle rattled softly in the background as the water inside began to heat, and he let his mind wander.

Four years. He’d been with Erik nearly four years, which beat any of his previous records for lengthy relationships by a long shot. And his mother. What would she think of him now? He chuckled at the thought of her; she was probably still spinning in her grave over this one. He could hear her now in the back of his mind, yelling at him in all her denial, telling him, “It’s only a phase. You’ll get over it soon enough.” Well, four years and counting were there to prove her wrong.

And what a lovely four years it had been. Before Erik had stumbled into his life, Charles could have never seen himself settle down with another man—his mother certainly would have had fits about it, god rest her soul—but with Erik everything fit, everything felt _right_ , and he never wanted it to end.

He carefully laid his egg down on his plate and brought his sweater-covered hand up to his face, breathing in the scent of the fabric. It mostly smelled like detergent and that odd dusty aroma their closet picked up from time to time, but underneath it all was a scent that was well and truly Erik, and it was comforting. He wondered just what the other man had up his sleeve for their anniversary. Probably something fancy and over-the-top that would embarrass the heck out of either of them on a normal day, like the singing telegram he’d received at work last Valentine’s Day that had nearly gotten him fired.

Suddenly, there came a ringing sound. He jumped a bit in his seat and looked around. His phone was sitting on the other end of the table, its screen lit up with an incoming call. Odd. No one called him this early in the morning. He reached over from his seat and swiped it from the tabletop, bringing it close to his face so he could read the Caller ID.

Oh. He swallowed. He knew what this had to be about. He flicked his phone open, trying to stifle the pinching feeling working its way up his throat.

“Hello, Raven.”

“Charles. Hi. I’m sorry to call so early.” She sounded almost surprised that he’d answered. Perhaps she’d simply been looking to leave a message. “Did I, um, did I wake you?”

“No,” he sighed, looking at the clock. It was still too early for his alarm to go off. “But on almost any other day, you would have. What are you calling about, Raven? And on that note, why at this ungodly hour? You should be asleep right now.”

“I know. I just, um, wanted to see how you were doing. You and Erik. I haven’t seen either of you in a while, and—”

“Raven.” He cut her off. She fell silent on the other end of the line. “Why are you really calling? Is this about the money you were asking for earlier?” She didn’t say a thing, but he could hear her breathing through the speakers. He sighed and rubbed his hand over his forehead. “You know I can’t give you anything.”

“Yes, you can, Charles. And it wouldn’t be much. Just a couple hundred. Enough to last us through the end of the month.”

“Do you have a job?”

“Yes, but—”

“Does he?”

She was quiet again.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Raven. I know I’m your brother and thus my opinion is rendered somewhat invalid, but you can do better than this.”

“What if I can’t, Charles?” He voice was soft but defiant, and Charles wanted nothing more than to reach out into his phone and wrap her in his arms. She was still his little sister, no matter what kind of hell she was currently putting herself through.

“You know our door is always open.” There was nothing. No response, no catty reply, no quiet puffs of breath breezing over the speaker. There wasn’t even a whispered ‘I miss you’ that he’d grown so accustomed to during these infrequent calls, and he pulled the phone away from his ear just to verify that Raven had indeed hung up.

The time of the call blinked at him from the bottom of the screen, and he let out a soft breath, trying his hardest not to slam the phone down onto the table. He wasn’t sure what had happened, when exactly his sister had fallen away from him, and it hurt that she didn’t seem to care about him the same way he did for her anymore. He buried his face in the sleeves of his sweater, his egg completely forgotten, the kettle still rattling softly from its place on the stove. He really ought to go turn it off and get himself ready for work. He wasn’t that hungry now anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian Shaw was nothing if not a patient man. He would wait until the ends of the earth if it meant he could get what he wanted. He was also focused and determined: when he wanted something, he was going to get it. Period.

And right now, there was little else that he wanted more in the world than the affections of one Charles Xavier.

He fingered the warms sides of his cardboard coffee cup and watched as the short man darted around from table to table, clearing away refuse left behind by inconsiderate customers and the sticky residue of spilled drinks stuck to tabletops and chairs. He hadn’t been the one at the cash register this morning and had yet to notice Shaw sitting there watching him in his haste to get everything clean. Even though it was only the third time he’d ever seen the man, he found that Charles seemed so much more earnest when he didn’t have to put on the front of the cheerful employee, the dancing monkey of the coffee shop. Right now, with his guard down, Charles almost looked like that intriguing man he’d met in the park, just wearing a suit that didn’t quite fit. He needed to find a way to get Charles out of that uniform.

Shaw brought the rim of his cup up to his lips, took a tentative sip and abruptly pulled away with a grimace, setting his cup back down on the table.

Disgusting. Nothing at all like how Charles had made it the other day.

He gave it one more taste and felt his stomach turn as the drink hit his tongue. No, coffee hadn’t magically become appetizing, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise. He’d inspected the scribbled label on his cup from a few days ago and asked the barista to replicate the drink this morning, but it was all in vain. It had all been Charles’s doing that had made the drink something worth having, not the particular blend of beans the café used, which now left him with a small but unpleasantly full cup of a drink he couldn’t possibly bring himself to finish. Perfect.

But the cup was warm and he had paid enough for the damn thing; he might as well make the most of it. He wrapped his hands around the cardboard once more, hoping to warm his fingers before he had to venture back out into the cold, and went back to watching Charles work. The short man was slowly working his way around the room, cleaning table after table, completely fixated on his task. And soon he would be here, right in front of Shaw. Shaw moistened his lips in anticipation.

Charles stirred emotions in Shaw like he had never felt before. Well, not for a man, at any rate. Shaw could certainly appreciate the beauty of a woman, but Charles was the first man to ever catch his eye like this. He was young and beautiful, soft and kind, with a layer of intelligence and sophistication that he buried under the guise of a coffee house worker. He was someone who deserved to be courted and won and then taken like a prize to bed, ready and willing to be conquered. Shaw would wager a good amount of money on Charles being quite the little fox when it came to sex. It was always the quiet ones, the shy ones, who really seemed to know just how to make a man go wild, and Charles was already into men. He’d said so himself that night in the park. It couldn’t be that hard to win him over, especially if Charles was still at odds with his partner.

Shaw watched the slick movements of Charles’s torso as he leaned across a table to reach a stain nestled in one of its far corners. Yes, Charles definitely seemed the type. He knew how to entice a man. Shaw licked at his lips again. Only two more tables to go.

He could see the muscles of Charles’s arms flex beneath the cotton sleeve of his work shirt as he cleaned, and he pictured those hands wrapped in silk, doing the most devilish things to him. The thought was already making his body flush with heat. He wanted Charles, and he was going to get him, no matter what he had to do.

One more table to go; it was best to make his move now.

“Charles,” he greeted warmly, and the other man looked up from his work to see who was calling him. His face lit up in recognition once he laid eyes on Shaw. He quickly finished up with his current table and wandered over, sitting down in the chair opposite Shaw, his face split in a friendly grin.

“Mr. Shaw. It’s good to see you again.”

“Please, just Sebastian. Only my colleagues bother to call me Mr. Shaw these days, and it makes me feel old most of the time. Besides, you wouldn’t want me to call you Mr. Xavier, now would you?” Though he had to admit that the formality of the title on his tongue had a tantalizing ring to it.

Charles shook his head with a light chuckle. “No, I suppose not. But it’s only appropriate while I’m at work that I avoid using your first name. Can’t be too familiar with customers without getting on the boss’s bad side.”

“Ah, I can see that. Formality it is, then. You don’t mind me sticking with Charles, though, do you? That is the only name present on your nametag.” He pointed at the tag pinned to Charles’s chest.

“Yes, that would probably be wise. Though admittedly I should probably get used to a more formal title of address. I am on my way to becoming a professor, after all.”

“Oh? Smart man, then. The coffee and bagel circuit not cutting it for you, I take it?”

Charles laughed again. “Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Shaw. This is a wonderful place to work, but I’d rather not spend the rest of my life getting up at three in the morning to serve people their daily caffeine boost.”

Shaw flexed his hands around his cup. “Understandable.”

Charles glanced toward the back and swiftly slid out of his seat, swiping his rag across the table with a nervous look at the thin man standing over near the bathrooms. Shaw pretended to be completely absorbed in his coffee, like Charles was merely a mild inconvenience to his morning routine. The thin man suddenly wandered back behind the register and disappeared. Charles deflated with relief.

“That your boss?” Shaw asked quietly, keeping his voice low to avoid trouble for Charles.

“My manager, yeah. I’m not on his bad side this morning, but I’d rather not chance anything. It was nice talking to you again, Mr. Shaw. I hope you enjoy your coffee.”

“Charles.” Shaw reached out and grabbed Charles’s wrist in his hand, firmly holding the other man in place. “When is your break? I’d love the chance to actually get in a full conversation with you.”

Charles shook himself out of Shaw’s grip with an apologetic smile. “It’s already passed for today. Maybe some other time, yeah? And I can always chat at the register if we’re not too busy.”

“I guess that will just have to do,” Shaw sighed. “Until next time, then.”

“Until then.”

\---

Erik fumbled with the thin plastic package in his hands as he fished his keys out of his jacket pocket. He had known that it wasn’t the brightest idea to go shopping for flowers so late in the evening, but this was a special occasion. It had been worth it. A light snow had begun to fall on his walk home, and it was starting to pick up again. He struggled to keep himself and his precious cargo dry until he was able to slip inside the apartment. Finally. He heard the lock open with a gentle click, and he hurried inside, toeing his damp shoes off onto the welcome mat as he shut the door behind him. The last thing he wanted to do was clean up any wet footprints he was sure to leave behind if he trailed across the carpet with dirty shoes. But as soon as his socked feet hit the hard wooden flooring of the doorway, he realized that something was off.

It was too dark.

He stilled and shifted the package about in his arms, flexing his toes against the hardwood floor. Charles was in the habit of turning on every light he could think of after the sun went down, and he was supposed to be here tonight when Erik got home. He had called earlier to make sure.

“Charles?”

The tiny white flakes of snow that dusted the shoulders of his jacket faded away to nothing more than shimmering specks of water atop the fabric. He frowned, folding his jacket over his arm. This was odd. Charles always left the light on in the living room when he came home, and it was far too cold to be comfortable in here. “Charles?” he called again. Still nothing.

Erik made his way down the hall to the thermostat and scowled at the numbers on the screen. He jammed his fingers into the little grey buttons to raise the heat, but the stupid thing wasn’t working. He’d have to alert their landlord about it. Again. His frown deepened as he tried the buttons one last time to no avail. Perfect. This would be the third time the thing had gone out since the weather turned. He shook his head and stalked over to the kitchen, flicking on the light as he passed.

Charles had left his phone on the table, and there was a little yellow pad of sticky notes lying beside it. Charles’s neat scrawl was scribbled all over the first sheet, all curved lines and smooth edges. Perhaps he’d left Erik a message as to where he’d gone. Erik gently placed his package down on the kitchen counter and walked over to the table. With how cold it was outside and knowing Charles as he did, he doubted the man had gone far. Perhaps down to the corner store to pick up some milk. They’d been out for a day or two now.

But the note wasn’t addressed to anyone. It looked to be nothing more than musings and a reminder, likely based on a message his sister had left him.

_Raven - 600 last week, 800 now_  
 _Gambling debts?_  
 _Talk to Erik when he gets home._

_need milk._

There were tiny dots of ink where Charles had started to write something between ‘Talk to Erik when he gets home’ and ‘need milk,’ like Charles couldn’t quite know how to put into words what he wanted to speak to him about. Erik snorted and moved back toward the counter, laying his coat over the back of one of the chairs and leaving the note where it lay. He would talk to Charles about it later, as much as he dreaded the thought. Money certainly wasn’t an issue between them, but they’d both agreed that Charles’s extensive inheritance was better left untouched. They could fall back on it if the need arose.

And as much as Erik loved Raven, there was only so much he was willing to put up with. Charles’s stepsister was a lovely, bright young woman, whose taste in men, unfortunately, left much to be desired. She’d blown her own inheritance years ago, and had yet to stop begging for money as she bounced from boyfriend to boyfriend. This latest one was by far the worst, and Erik wondered just how long it would take for her to come to her senses and dump the bastard. It would save them all a lot of grief.

Erik picked up the slightly wilted flower from its resting place atop the counter. A rose. Cliché, he knew, but Charles would appreciate it just the same. After all, roses were the traditional symbol of love. Or something like that anyway.

He peeled away the plastic wrapped around the stem and plucked off two of the outside petals that had gone a little brown around the edges. They were incredibly soft against the pads of his fingers as he laid them down on the discarded plastic. Not so wilted now except for the slight droop it had when he held it upright, but it was the best he could do on such short notice. The cold had really done a number on the thing. He hadn’t meant to wait so long to purchase the flower, but work had held him up.

He inspected the rose in his hand, picking off the few stubby, pointed thorns poking out from the stem. It was still rather pretty even with all of its flaws, and Charles, being the romantic sap he was, would like it. Erik was sure of it. If only he knew where the other man was. He set it back down on the counter and dug out one of his pens and the little pad of stationary he’d buried in his pocket as he’d left work, scribbling out a quick note across the paper.

It was too cold in the kitchen, and there was still no sign of Charles. Erik cast a quick glance at the clock above the stove and frowned at what the little green numbers were telling him. Charles should have been home by now, but there was no way for Erik to contact him. Not when his phone was sitting on the table instead of in his pocket where it should be. Erik’s frown deepened. He swept the plastic wrapping and discarded bits of rose into the trash and made his way down the hall toward their bedroom, leaving the flower and note on the counter where Charles was sure to see them should he come stumbling in at some ungodly hour.

His socks shuffled lightly on the carpet, and he was startled to see a thin beam of yellow light peeking out from underneath the closed door to their room. He tapped his knuckle on the heavy wooden panel, craning in close to the door to hear any movement on the other side. “Charles? Are you in there?”

There was nothing. Erik frowned.

“I’m coming in there, Charles, whether you like it or not. I suggest you put your pants back on.” The metal of the doorknob was cool under his hand, and it turned easily. Charles hadn’t bothered to lock it. “Or not, you know. I wouldn’t mind either way. But honestly, Charles, if you wanted some time to yourself, you could have just—” He stopped short.

Charles was there all right, and it looked very much like he’d pilfered yet another of Erik’s sweaters. He was sprawled out in the plush armchair they kept in the corner—a remnant of Erik’s old apartment that he hadn’t been able to part with when they’d moved in together. Charles had quickly claimed it as his own. Books and papers were scattered all about his feet; a thin bundle of pages was dangling precariously from Charles’s limp hand. Erik smiled and shook his head. Charles must have fallen asleep while working on his thesis again.

He carefully made his way over to the sleeping man, making sure to avoid stepping on the paper littering the carpet. He leaned in close and brushed away some of the stray strands of hair that had fallen over Charles’s closed eyes. Erik smiled at Charles’s relaxed face and gently pressed his lips to the other man’s temple, doing his best not to disturb him. Charles had been working himself too hard lately, and the mess with Raven certainly wasn’t helping matters. It was nice to see him so calm. He slid his fingers through Charles’s hair once more, smiling lightly at the way the other man leaned into his touch. “Good night, Charles. Perhaps I’ll see you in the morning.”

\---

Charles woke to darkness. Oh god, where was he? He jolted upright, trying to gain his bearings, and a dull twist of pain shot through his spine at the motion, causing him to slump back into the plush cushions of the armchair. Oh. He was at home. Papers fluttered softly around his feet as they drifted from his slack fingers to the floor.

He must have fallen asleep in the chair again. His eyes danced over the dark shadows of books scattered around the floor. He must have dozed off while working on his thesis.

He lifted his gaze from the floor and looked around the dark room, his eyes lingering for a moment on Erik’s sleeping form and the little green numbers of their alarm clock. Only three minutes before his usual wake-up time, and he doubted Erik had thought to reset the alarm. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose to ward away the headache trying to build itself up inside his skull. He’d never been so relieved to have a day off in his life.

There was shuffling coming in from the other side of the room, and he looked up to see Erik staring at him from his side of the bed. Charles gave the man a gentle smile. “Hi,” he murmured quietly into the dark.

“Good morning, Charles,” Erik mumbled sleepily. His voice was muffled by the pillow pressed up against his cheek. “Sleep well?”

Charles gave an amused snort in answer and pushed himself up from the chair. His legs were stiff and wobbly from sitting there all night, and he was certain that the crunching sounds bouncing off the walls were his feet ruining the pages of his thesis he’d been trying to revise. He paid them no mind. They could always be reprinted later. He stumbled over to the bed and knelt down on the floor in front of Erik, so close their faces were almost touching. Charles reached up and brushed his fingers over Erik’s forehead.

“Did you miss me?”

“A little,” Erik replied. “I didn’t miss your cold feet, though.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Erik chuckled and reached a hand out from under the blankets draped over his torso. He threaded his fingers through Charles’s hair and brought the other man in close. Their mouths met, slow and warm and sloppy with sleep, and Charles found himself melting into the kiss. Erik had always been a damn good kisser.

“I did miss that,” Erik mumbled against his lips when they drew apart for breath.

Charles could only smile. His knees were starting to ache from where they were pressed against the floor, and the bed was looking awfully inviting right about now. “Did you, now? I suppose I could remedy that.” He ran his hand along the curve of Erik’s jaw, his fingers catching a bit on the stubble peppering the man’s face. “You need a shave, love.”

“As do you, Charles, but you don’t see me complaining. I personally find the scruffy look on you to be rather endearing, professor.”

“I’m not a professor, yet. And what if I ultimately decide not to go into teaching? I could be the next big name in genetics, Erik.”

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself, Charles,” Erik said with a light chuckle. “You love the little heathens too much for that.” His eyes slid over Charles’s form, taking in the rumpled slacks and cardigan that Charles had neglected to change out of when he’d fallen asleep last night. “Besides, you already look the part. You’ve been dressing like an old man since the age of six.”

“Oh, you like it. Now shut up and kiss me.” Charles leaned forward and drew their mouths together once more. This time was a little more coordinated, and Charles could feel heat rising up in his belly as Erik deepened the kiss and tangled his fingers into Charles’s hair. His toes curled into the carpet, and he strained to get closer. Charles had never been overly enthusiastic about early morning sex, but he’d seen so little of Erik the past few days that even this gentle teasing was almost too much. He pressed forward, rising up higher onto his knees and drawing Erik away from the bed when suddenly and without warning, a harsh, frantic beeping filled the room with sound, jolting the two of them apart. Charles’s heart shot up into his throat. He could scarcely get his lungs to draw in the proper amount of air until his mind caught up with him and he realized exactly what the sound was. He dropped his head to the mattress with a groan. “You forgot to reset the alarm.”

Erik rolled over onto his back and cast a disparaging look at the machine, still happily announcing that it was three in the morning and shouldn’t they be getting up right about now? The clock was too far away for him to reach without moving, which was probably a good thing in retrospect. Erik really didn’t feel up to dropping the money on a new clock right about now. He laid his arm out over his eyes, trying to ignore the pulsing beeps that only seemed to grow in intensity with every passing second. “Your alarm, Charles. Your problem.”

“Jerk,” Charles mumbled as he picked himself off the floor and stomped over to the alarm.

“You figured me out,” Erik replied. He slid his arm away from his face and shot Charles a grin as he watched the other man fumble around in the dark with the alarm. Charles looked to be jamming his fingers into whatever buttons he could find, whispering curses all the while, and even with the disappointment of the ruined moment, Erik couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The alarm switched off. Silence descended upon the room once more.

Erik rolled over onto his side and studied Charles. His exhaustion seemed to have finally caught up with him. “You all right?”

“I’m fine.” Charles gently placed the clock back on the nightstand and rand a hand over his face. “Just tired is all.” He flopped down onto the bed. His ruffled hair flew out around his head like a halo, and Erik shook his head, chuckling softly under his breath.

“What?”

“It’s a shame, really,” he murmured, reaching out to pull Charles close. Charles took the hint and shifted closer until his back was flush against Erik’s chest, Charles’s shirt and the blanket the only barriers between them. Erik pressed a soft kiss to Charles’s neck, his breath ghosting over the warm skin there. “We were off to such a good start.”

“Hmm, perhaps we can pick it up again later.”

“Perhaps.” They fell into silence, letting the darkness wash over them. It was too early to get up and too late to go back to sleep. Charles, as tired as he was, couldn’t get his mind to slow down.

“Erik?”

“Hmm?” Erik, apparently, didn’t seem to be having the same problem. He mumbled sleepily against Charles’s shoulder, but Charles couldn’t decipher any of his words.

“Do you want to go out for breakfast today?”

“Can’t. I have to run reports this morning. Esther wants me in first thing.”

“Oh.” Well, he could treat himself today and then maybe head over to campus to refine some things for his thesis. His bibliography was still somewhat incomplete. “Then when will you be home tonight?”

“Three or four. Since I have to come in early, I’m taking off early. They can’t keep me there forever.” He pressed another kiss to Charles’s neck. “Now either shut up and go to sleep, or I’m going to finish what we started.”

Charles smiled at that and felt his eyes drooping. He would go out this morning and pick up groceries, then. Maybe cook something special for dinner. Erik would like that. He wrapped his hands around Erik’s and relaxed into the other man’s embrace, falling away into sleep.

\---

Charles awoke to sunlight, an empty bed and an empty stomach, but the overwhelming desire for a shower and a change of clothes trumped everything else. He slid out of bed and stumbled over to the bathroom. His legs were still wobbly from spending most of the night in the chair.

The shower helped. Steam tumbled out of the bathroom door as he made his way over to the closet, and he realized just how cold it was in the apartment. The heat was probably out. He’d have to talk to their landlord about it. The last time Erik had spoken to the man, they’d nearly been evicted. It was best to keep things as peaceful as possible. He sighed and rubbed his towel through his damp hair. One more thing to add to his ever-growing list of things to do.

A sweater, his favorite jacket and a comfortable pair of slacks later had him wandering over to the kitchen for his wallet and keys. Breakfast was calling, and Charles was eager to get something hot in his stomach. He stepped out of the hall and was caught by the sight of a rose laying out on the kitchen counter, cold and more than a little wilted, but lovely just the same. Warmth bubbled up inside his chest.

Erik. He was leaving him gifts. Charles walked over to the counter and gently picked up the rose from its resting place. The flower drooped heavily to the left, and Charles couldn’t help but smile. Erik must have gotten it last night.

There was a note left alongside it, short and sweet and in Erik’s unmistakable scrawl:

_In the languages of flowers,_

_roses are love._

_One in declaration of the love I have for you._

Charles tucked the note inside his pocket, his face bright and flushed with pleasure. So. Flowers were to be the theme for this year’s anniversary. He never would have thought Erik to be the one for that sort of thing, but the man obviously still had surprises hiding up his sleeve.

He cradled the rose in his hands and walked back over to the counter, digging around briefly for a pair of scissors. The flower came away easily from the stem, and Charles tucked the rose away in the pocket of his coat.

_Roses are love._

He couldn’t wait to see what Erik had planned next.


	4. Chapter 4

It was growing harder and harder to hide his disappointment as the morning dragged on. Shaw leaned up against the counter as he watched the young man behind the register fumble around with his coffee. He looked young, and Shaw had never seen him here before. He would have remembered the red hair and sleepy demeanor. Not that this prospect was terribly surprising in the long run; he’d been visiting this coffee shop for only about a week, after all, but he couldn’t contain the disgruntled sigh that escaped his lips as the redhead slowly assembled his coffee, probably all wrong.

Charles should have been there behind the counter fixing his drink, working his magic until the coffee was edible, tasty even. This boy looked like he could barely figure out how to dress himself, let alone fix a cup of coffee to Shaw’s exact specifications. He sighed and leaned harder against the counter, his gaze wandering over to the large windows facing the street. It had started to snow again in earnest, coating the ground with yet another layer of moisture. It was going to be hell walking back to the office.

“Have you been working here long?”

“Hmm? I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t catch that.”

It was slow around here this morning. No one was in line behind him. It couldn’t hurt to talk to this kid, maybe gain some information about Charles. “I asked if you,“ he squinted, trying to read the boy’s nametag, “uh, Sean, if you’ve been working here long.”

Sean shrugged. “Just a couple months. It’s a job.” He turned around and passed the cup over to Shaw. “Do you want anything to eat with that?”

Shaw glanced at the pastry display and shook his head. Best not. “No.”

Sean punched in his order into the cash register as Shaw dug his wallet out of his back pocket. “Do you know one of the other men who works here? Goes by the name of Charles?”

Sean looked up at him as he totaled his order. “What, you mean the professor? Yeah, sure. I know him.”

“Professor?”

“Yeah. That’ll be three seventy-six.” Shaw dug into his wallet for the cash and waited for Sean to explain. He lifted his eyes to the boy when he remained silent.

“And?” he asked as he handed over the money.

“And what?”

“Why do you call him that? I admit that he has a bit of a bookish feel about him, but that doesn’t necessarily explain the nickname.”

“Oh, well he’s a student over at the university, same as me, except he’s working on his PhD. Or one of them. I don’t know.” Shaw had known Charles was a student—he’d told him as much the last Shaw had visited the café—but him working on several doctorates at once was certainly something new.

“One of them?”

“He might already have one, but I’m not sure. He doesn’t really broadcast how smart he is a lot of the time. I know he’s aiming to be a professor if he isn’t one already. Honestly, I’m not even sure why he bothers working here.”

“I see.” Shaw lifted the cup of coffee to his lips and took a sip. That was a mistake. As expected, Sean had done a dismal job of recreating Charles’s work. He tried to still his face into indifference. “And he’s off today?”

“Yeah. Look, man, why do you want to know so much about the guy?”

“I was talking with him the other day when he was on his break, and he left something of his on the table. A watch,” Shaw lied smoothly. The reasoning was simple, not suspicious in the slightest, and it might get just a little more information out of this kid. “I wanted to get it back to him.”

“Oh. Well then, I could give it to him if you’d like.” Sean held out his hand. “He should be working when I get in tomorrow, so—”

“That would be wonderful. If he’ll be here tomorrow, then I’ll just drop by later this morning and leave it with you, no problem.” He dug into his wallet, pulled out some extra change and dropped it into the little glass jar by the counter set aside for tips. “Thank you, Sean. You’ve been very helpful.”

“You’re welcome, sir. I suppose I’ll see you later, then. To get the watch.”

“You can count on it.”

\---

He knew that he should be making his way back to the office, but he couldn’t bring himself to go in that direction. He walked a while, aimless and cold in the deepening snow flying in around his shoulders. He should have expected this; Charles couldn’t work every day, after all, but the disappointment curling up in his belly was making him nauseous. The man had been there every other time Shaw had visited the café, and Sebastian was never much of one for keeping schedules. He headed for the park, trying to get his mind to focus on something other than blue eyes and a trimmed torso leaned out to bear for him and those beautiful arms sweeping over tables.

He flipped open his phone and dialed the office. Emma was sure to pick up. He’d trained her well.

“Schmidt and associates, this is Emma. How can I help you today?”

He smiled at her detached tone. “You should lighten up, Emma, sound more alive. I know it’s dull work, but we’ll never increase our clientele if you sound like that.”

“Hello, sir.”

“Hello, darling. Could you please cancel anything I have going for today? Something I ate is not sitting well with me.”

“Of course, sir. Do you want me to reschedule the four o’clock?”

“If you would, it would be most appreciated.”

“And our plans for later, sir?” Her voice was quieter now, low and hushed to ward away any eavesdroppers.

“I don’t know. I’ll give you a call a little later if I make a turn-around, but I make no promises.”

“Understood.” Her voice was colder now, clipped and professional. Shaw clicked his tongue.

“Now, Emma, don’t be that way. I’ll call you in a couple of hours. I have a feeling some rest and medication will settle this.”

“Fine. Goodbye, sir.”

“Goodbye, Emma.”

He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and continued on his way, shrugging his jacket up a bit higher around his shoulders to ward away the chill. His gut twisted with every step, and he chastised himself for this weakness. He shouldn’t be so hung up over one person, let alone over some man, but he couldn’t get Charles out of his head. He saw him everywhere: in the faces of people he passed on the street, in the reflections of the slowly freezing puddles of water lining the sidewalks, through the windows of passing stores and restaurants.

He paused and lifted his face to the sky, letting his breath curl up before him like smoke. He needed to find him. He needed to find Charles, see him, even if just for a minute. Perhaps the university. There would be records of him in their systems. He turned on his heel and started off toward the campus, but was stopped suddenly in his tracks when he ran head-on into a man going the other direction. They both fell to the snow-dusted sidewalk, and Shaw felt his anger rising until he saw who it was scrambling around on the ground beside him.

Charles.

Speak of the devil.

The shorter man quickly got to his feet and offered Shaw a hand, which he gratefully took. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going, and—Mr. Shaw?”

He grinned wide. “So you do remember me.”

“Of course. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—you’re not hurt or anything, are you?”

“No, I’m fine. It will take more than that to knock me out.”

“Just the same, I really am sorry about that. Are you on your way back to work?”

“Home, actually. I have a few things to take care of.” _Though now that I’ve seen you, most of those things have been covered._

“All right.” Charles dug his hand into his pocket and Shaw saw a sense of relief flood over him as his fingers seemed to close over something. Interesting. “Well, then I suppose I’ll see you around? At the café?”

“Of course.” The other man jogged off with a small wave, weaving in and around the people on the street. Shaw shook his head and looked to the spot where Charles had fallen. There was a small card lying in the snow, plain and simple, almost like a business card. Shaw bent down to retrieve it. Perhaps Charles was headed to wherever was on the card.

But it was a note, written in an unfamiliar hand.

_In the languages of flowers,_

_roses are love._

_One in declaration of the love I have for you._

Interesting.

So Charles liked flowers. Shaw pocketed the card and straightened the collar of his jacket.

Flowers. He could work with that.

\---

Erik smiled gently to himself as he cradled the roses in his arm, carefully dodging passersby as he quickly made his way home. It had definitely been a much better idea to buy the flowers over his lunch break rather than trying to do this after work again. It was perfect. One rose for the first day, two for today, three for the next day and so on. Right up until their anniversary. It was a lot simpler than what they’d done in the past, but it seemed right. Perfect. He tucked the roses a little tighter into the crook of his elbow. His heart fluttered madly in his chest, and he could feel his cheeks flushing with warmth at the thought of Charles’s face when he saw them.

If Charles was home, then Erik could present them to him personally and reap the rewards of his thoughtfulness right then and there. Well, not in full, but a kiss or two would be more than welcome at this point. If not, then he’d simply leave them on the counter with a note, right where he’d left last night’s rose. Charles had most assuredly found that one by now.

The hard, thin layers of snow and ice on the ground crunched under his feet as he walked, and Erik was thankful that the snow had stopped falling for the time being. The grey clouds that had crawled in a few days ago had yet to leave, and he was sure that he would be walking home in yet another flurry of white after work, but it was a nice reprieve for now.

He dug into his pocket for his keys, not keen on staying out in the cold any longer than he had to, and looked up at the apartment buildings looming before him, but something was wrong. He squinted at the balcony in front of the door to his and Charles’s apartment. Someone was up there, sitting beside the door. Someone that most definitely wasn’t Charles.

He quickened his pace, almost breaking into a run until his shoes slid a bit on the slick pavement. He swore and slowed, still keeping his eyes fixed on the balcony. The figure hadn’t moved, but Erik could see they were crouched down low near the ground. A burglar, perhaps, trying to pick the lock and break in. Erik growled. Really? After Raven, his fight with Charles, the broken thermostat and all of those other myriad little annoyances that had been prodding at him for the past couple of days, something else was going wrong this week? He tightened his grip on the flowers and sped up as much as he dared.

The stairs to the building came quickly into view. and he darted over to them, taking them two at a time in his haste. He wondered briefly if Charles was home just now, and what would happen to him if the intruder made his way inside, and what if Charles was asleep, and—his heart was racing now and his legs were burning with exertion as he climbed up to their floor. The plastic wrapping around the roses crinkled against the sleeve of his jacket.

He rounded the corner, worry and anger building in his gut. “What the hell do you think you’re—” He stopped and froze where he was, not quite believing his eyes.

Sitting there beside the welcome mat was a young woman, wearing a dress that was far too thin for this sort of weather. Her bare legs were tucked up neatly against her torso to ward away the cold, but he could see the red blush of her chilled skin where her skirt and the lip of her shoes failed to cover her. Two small, lumpy duffle bags were resting beside her hip, both of them lightly dusted with snow. She’d been out here a while. Her hair was longer than he remembered, and the wrong color if he was seeing her clearly, but Erik would never forget her face.

His grip on the roses loosened, and he had to steady himself against the balcony railing to keep from falling to his knees. “Raven?”

She looked up at him and gave a soft smile. The skin under her left eye was dark and swollen, and there was a cut on her lower lip, but the smile was genuine; she was pleased to see him.

“Hello, Erik.”

\---

The thermostat was still dead, and inside the apartment wasn’t much better than outside. Erik settled Raven down at the kitchen table, setting the kettle to heat on the stove before wandering off toward the bedroom to get her something warm for Raven to wear. She might as well have been naked for all the good that dress was doing her. He rummaged through Charles’s clothes until he found a sweater and some warm pants for her. He bundled the clothes to his chest and glanced briefly at the clock.

 _So much for work_ , he thought with a sigh, and he made his way back to the kitchen.

Raven was still and quiet, sitting exactly where he’d left her. Her hands were pressed firmly beneath her thighs in a vain attempt to keep them warm, and she was staring at the little notepad Charles had left on the table. She didn’t even look up when he came in.

“Here,” he said, shoving the clothes in front of her. “Go change.” His frown deepened as he caught sight of her too pale skin and her disheveled hair. “And you should probably take a shower while you’re at it. It will warm you up a bit.”

She gingerly took the clothes from him and stared at the bundled fabric as though she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Erik sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “The towels are in the hall closet, same as ever, and I’ll call the office while you bathe, let them know that I’m going to be out for the rest of the day. Family emergency. And your brother is going to—”

“Where is he?” He stopped and stared at her. It was the first she’d spoken since her soft greeting on the balcony.

“Charles?”

She nodded. “Where is he, Erik? Where’s my brother?”

He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. “I don’t know at the moment. Probably off doing more research or something for his paper. Maybe office hours. You know how he is.”

She grew very quiet and looked down at the floor. Erik felt his unease growing. This girl was a stranger and nothing at all like the Raven he remembered. This girl was too timid, too broken to be Charles’s sister. He reached forward and gently lifted her chin so he could better inspect her face. She didn’t flinch or try to break free of his hold, but her eyes remained fixed on the floor. She couldn’t even meet his gaze. He turned her face in his hand so that he could see the bruise marring her cheek. It looked fresh, not even a day old.

“What happened to you, Raven?”

She smiled at him again, and he could see tears lining the bottom of her eyes. “I got lost, Erik,” she whispered.

He gently ran a thumb over the line of her jaw, and she leaned a little into the touch. She was shaking slightly under her his hand. “Is he gone?” She didn’t need to ask about whom he was talking about. She already knew the answer.

“I don’t know.”

Erik released her with a sigh. At least she seemed to be telling the truth. He leaned back in his chair and threaded his fingers through his hair. He needed to call the office, let them know that he wasn’t coming back. He needed to call Charles, let him know what had happened. He needed to call their landlord and get the damn thermostat working again. “Go get cleaned up, Raven. We’ll talk about this later, okay?” He tried to keep his voice as calm as possible, but it was hard when the little voice in the back of his head was screaming at him to do something.

“Okay.” She tucked the clothes up to her chest and padded over to the bathroom. He let the stillness wash over him for a moment, his mind wandering. He drew the roses he’d placed on the table closer to him and fingered the smooth surface of a leaf, trying to get his thoughts together. So much for his perfect evening.

The kettle was rattling away on the stove, and Erik had half a mind to turn on the oven too to help heat up the kitchen. He sighed. The soft hum of the pipes running in the background was oddly soothing to his ears. Erik reached across the table and pulled the notepad Charles had scribbled on the night before closer to him, tearing off the top page for a new, fresh one. So he wasn’t going to get the romantic night he’d had planned, but he wasn’t going to let this new development stop him. He pulled a pen out of his coat pocket and carefully penned his next message.

_Two in admiration of everything you do._

He placed the note atop the plastic packaging of the flowers and dug into his pocket for his phone. The guys down at the office would be wondering where he was in the next couple of minutes, and Charles needed to know about his sister. He punched in the numbers he knew by heart, his stomach dropping with every passing moment.

“Hello, Esther? I’m afraid I won’t be back in today.”

\---

“Erik?” Charles flew in through the front door, surprised a bit to find the lights on even though he knew Erik had to be home. Charles had missed a call from him earlier today (bloody complicated phones small enough to get buried at the bottom of the shopping making things unnecessarily difficult for everyone), and the message he’d left behind hadn’t exactly been encouraging. 

_Charles, you really need to start answering your phone. I know you didn’t forget it this time because I can’t find it lying around anywhere. A pause, a sigh. I need you to get home as soon as possible. Call me back if you can._

_Love you._

Vague, vague, vague, and it was making Charles shake, he was so nervous. Erik had wanted him home as soon as possible, and that never boded well, not when he sounded as resigned as he had on the phone. Was something wrong at work? Erik hadn’t mentioned anything to him lately, but the man was good at hiding things like that. But…oh god, what if Erik was hurt? What if something had happened to him at work like a fire or a shooting or something equally terrible? It was unlikely that any of those things had happened, but that didn’t stop Charles’s imagination from running wild. Those thoughts had had Charles running back to the apartment as fast as he dared on the slick walkways, not bothering to call back. It would have taken too long.

He swept into the kitchen, somewhat winded from his mad dash home. Erik was there at the table, looking unharmed if maybe a little tired, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. That was a little odd in and of itself; Erik hated tea, but Charles was too relieved to find him safe and sound to care. Erik noticed him standing there and fixed him with a tired smile. “You really need to start answering your phone, darling.”

Charles deflated in relief, smiling a little at the familiar words, and walked over to the table, setting the groceries on the floor at his feet as he settled into his chair. He reached across the table and threaded his fingers through Erik’s, relishing the feel of the other man’s skin against his own. “And you need to stop scaring me like that,” he said softly in reply. He looked up to see Erik studying him thoughtfully, his face pulled into a frown. “What’s going on, Erik?”

There were footsteps coming in from down the hall. Someone else was here.

Erik squeezed his hand. The gentle pressure was oddly comforting. “We have a visitor.”

Charles was horribly confused until he turned around to see his sister standing there at the entryway to the kitchen, her bare feet just barely brushing the linoleum. She was dressed in a borrowed pair of slacks and one of his sweaters that was far too loose from the way it awkwardly draped around her shoulders. His eyes immediately went to the bruise on her face, and he was at her side in an instant, inspecting the discolored skin as best he could without touching it. A few strands of her now blonde hair fell against his hands, still wet from her shower. When did she dye her hair? Had it really been that long since he’d seen her last?

“What happened to you?” His voice was little more than a whisper.

She was quiet and couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. She trembled under his hands, and for a moment Charles was afraid she might break. And suddenly she was there, her arms wrapped tight around his torso and her face buried in his shirt, staining it with tears. “I’m so sorry, Charles. I messed up. I’m sorry.” She repeated this over and over, begging for forgiveness she already had. Charles pulled her in close and held her, taking in her sobs with forced stoicism. Someone had hurt his little sister. Probably that bastard boyfriend of hers. He tried to suppress the burning rage building up in his gut. He was going to kill him.

It felt like an eternity before Charles felt Raven was calm enough to stand on her own. He led her over to the table and sat her down in the chair he had just left. Erik had his hands around his mug again. Tea. That sounded good. What Charles really needed was a stiff drink, but tea would do for now. He headed to the cabinet to pull down another mug. Two, actually, one for himself and one for his sister. Raven looked like she could do with something warm to drink, and it was freezing in here anyway.

He poured water from the kettle into the mugs and set one down beside Raven with a package of tea before pulling out another chair to sit. “Sorry about the bagged tea. I know it taste a bit like swamp water. Seems someone was lazy in his tea making.” He shot Erik a look. The taller man simply lifted his mug to his lips and took a sip.

“Some of us don’t give a damn, Charles.”

“Says the man who gets upset if even a hint of milk makes its way into his coffee in the morning.”

“Coffee should not be tainted by dairy.”

“I get a few dozen customers a day at the café who could prove you wrong.”

“Brainwashed, the lot of them.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, dear.”

Raven wrapped her hands around the mug, leaving the teabag in its packet. She smiled a little as she stared into the steaming water. “You two are like an old married couple.”

“Oh please. You know I’d never let myself be tied down.”

“Which is why you can’t get rid of me, I presume?” Erik said, shooting him a cheeky grin.

“Well, I can’t help if my incredible animal magnetism managed to ensnare you,” Charles replied with a suggestive wag of his eyebrows. “I just haven’t quite managed to get you out of here yet. Perhaps I should call some sort of pest control service.”

Erik chuckled into his tea, and they all fell into companionable silence, firmly ignoring the elephant in the room. Charles dipped his tea bag into his mug, watching as color bled into the liquid. Questions burned at the back of his mind, but he ignored them. Raven would tell them when she was ready.

“So you’re staying here, then?” He saw her hands tighten around her mug.

“Just for a few days.” She bit her lip and drew back. “If you guys will let me, that is.”

“You’re always welcome here, Raven. You know that.” He placed his teabag off to the side and took her hand into his. He gave her a gentle smile. “You can stay as long as you need.”

\---

Charles looked up from his book at the quiet knock on the doorframe to see Erik standing there in the hall. He had a pair of roses in his arms, the same deep red as the one Charles had found in the kitchen this morning, and Charles couldn’t help but smile. He laid down his book as Erik walked in, shutting the door behind him.

Charles drew his socked feet up into the armchair, smiling as the other man shuffled over to him.

“Those for me?”

“Perhaps.” Erik leaned down and gave Charles a kiss before settling onto the floor, setting the roses down beside his thigh.

“You know, we have a footrest. You don’t have to sit way down there.”

Erik unfolded Charles’s legs and bent his folded arms over the other man’s knees. “It’s called an ottoman, dearest, and I’d have to move all of your books to get to it. Not worth the effort. You’re comfortable enough for me.”

Charles reached out and smoothed his fingers over the short ends of Erik’s hair. “I suppose I’ll make do.” His expression fell as he went quiet and tried to get his thoughts together. His fingers stilled. He could hear the faint chatter of the television coming in from the living room. Raven had settled in on the couch after moving her things into the guest bedroom. He felt something twist in his chest at the memory of her face, the bruise marring the soft skin of her cheek.

“Charles?”

“What are we going to do, Erik?” He kept his eyes glued to the door. His sister was out there, hurting, and he didn’t have a clue how to make things better.

Erik shrugged. “Give it time. Let her stay here and get herself together. She’s an adult, Charles. These are her choices to make. All we can do is keep our door open and let her know she’s always welcome.”

“It’s just so hard to see her like this.”

“I know.” And he did. Erik wanted just as badly to find the cowardly bastard who’d done this to Raven and make sure he never touched the girl again.

Charles sighed and resumed his petting. Erik’s chest was warm against his legs, and Charles was content, even though the man’s elbows dug uncomfortably into his thighs. “On a lighter note, have you talked to the landlord about the thermostat yet? I swear it gets colder every time I walk in nowadays.”

“Yes,” Erik mumbled into his folded arms. “He said he’d look at it in a day or two.”

“Mm, that probably means we won’t have heat for another week.”

“You never know. He might pop by a bit early.” Erik’s voice was growing softer; he was falling asleep. Charles smiled and continued in his ministrations. Today had been stressful enough. He’d wake Erik up later when it was time for dinner. Takeout was sounding better and better as the afternoon wore on.

As Erik’s breath evened out, Charles leaned over to grab his book from the stack beside the chair, but something caught his eye. Lying there on the roses’ stems was yet another card. It was too far to reach, but Charles could read the words clear as day.

_Two in admiration of everything you do._

He smiled, his chest filling with warmth as he looked back down at the man in his lap. Erik was snoring softly now, and Charles just shook his head with a smile, letting his hand roam over Erik’s head once more. His book could wait.

\---

“You’re late again, Charlie.”

“It’s Charles, and I know, Tom. I had something of a family emergency last night.”

Tom raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. “Whatever, man. Just get ready to open. Oh, and Sean said someone left something for you yesterday. He put it in your locker.”

That was odd. Charles ambled over to the back, draping his coat over his arm. He hadn’t quite managed to brush away all of the snow from it before it melted, and the fabric was slightly damp against his skin. He lifted the tab to open his locker and found a small cluster of red tulips resting along the bottom. Interesting. He’d thought it was a bit early for tulips, but it seemed he was wrong. He reached forward to finger the soft petals. They’d wilted a bit overnight from the cold, but seeing them brought a smile to Charles’s face anyway. Now Erik was leaving him gifts at work, the romantic sop.

It was almost like when they’d first met and Erik couldn’t stop leaving him chocolates with the other graduate students in his department. They had only ever made it to him when they were left with Moira, the others victims of hungry university students with far too little money on their hands for delicacies like sweets, but the sentiment was just the same. He smiled.

There was a card with these, too, small and light in his fingers as he picked it up.

Unlike the others before it, this card was typed, but the words were just as genuine. Perhaps the handwritten ones were reserved for the roses. Erik was the type to do little things like that.

_In the language of flowers, a tulip is a sign._

_Red for the love I now declare to you._

He never noticed the little gold watch sitting just behind the vase.


	5. Chapter 5

“Xavier, Xavier, Xavier.” He scanned through the list of names on the sign posted outside the office. Nothing. He cursed softly under his breath and moved on to the next door. Signs and doors, signs and doors. It was endlessly frustrating. At least he was certain he had the right department this time.

Sebastian had never particularly liked universities like this. They were too big, too old and far too confusing for comfort. All those twisting hallways that hadn’t existed when the damn place had been built, added on as extras when the university became too big for its britches and took on more students than it could handle. There were too many nooks and crannies that they could shove the graduate students into. He squinted at the newest list of names and wondered if Charles was teaching this semester on top of his job at the coffee shop. Probably. He seemed the type to overwork himself like that.

“Excuse me.” He jumped a bit at the voice, crushing the flowers in his hands to his chest. He turned to find himself beside a woman, small, slight, and lovely. Common, perhaps, but lovely. She smiled sweetly at him, shifting the pile of books about in her hands to keep her balance. “Can I help you find something?” She looked at the flowers he was holding. “Or someone, rather? You look lost.”

Shaw considered his options. This woman probably knew Charles, and if not, she could probably lead him to someone who did. That would certainly make his job easier. But then again, if she knew the man Charles was seeing…perhaps it would be best to remain anonymous. He studied her for a bit longer. She seemed harmless. He cleared his throat and graced her with his best smile.

“Yes, actually. I’m looking for the office of a, ah,” he purposefully stumbled over the name, trying not to be too obvious. Harmless or not, he couldn’t trust a stranger. Not when he was trying to woo one of her colleagues, one of her _taken_ colleagues, and preferably in secret. Well, for now, anyway. He pulled the card out from the plastic slip cover around the stems of the flowers in his hands. “Xavier. Charles Xavier.”

Her smile softened at the name, and her eyes tracked over to the flowers in his arms. “Those for him?” she asked.

“Yes.” She didn’t seem suspicious. That was a relief. “I was hoping to find him. Is he here by chance?”

She shook her head. “No. He doesn’t normally come in on Thursday mornings.” She hefted her books to one arm and checked the thin watch strapped to her wrist. “But he does tend to show up in the early afternoon. In fact, he should be in in another hour or two if you want to wait that long.” She rebalanced the books and took in his appearance, his suit, the fine cut of his jacket, the sweep of his hair. “But I assume you can’t do that.”

He grinned. “Afraid not. Can I leave these on his desk by chance? Since you said he is supposed to come in today, there’s no risk of these wilting overnight, and there is a card with them.” He held it up in the air between his fingers. 

She looked down at the floor for a moment in contemplation before nodding a little to herself. “Yes, I think I could look after them for you until Charles gets in.” She looked at the bundled plants in his arms. “They’re only flowers. I think I can manage to keep them safe before then.”

“It’s not too much trouble?”

She was smiling at him again. “Not at all. They’re not edible, so you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. Last time he got a gift delivered here it was chocolate, and that lasted just about as long as you might think with thirty or so broke grad students roaming around. Just come this way. Charles and I actually share an office right now, so at least it will be easy to find him.”

Shaw followed her down the hall. The soft shuffling of their footsteps echoed in his ears. “Here we are,” the woman declared happily, shifting the books back to one arm so she could dig into her pocket for a small ring of jingling keys. The door opened easily, and she led him inside.

“You can set them on that desk over there. I’ll go look for a cup or bowl or something so they can be in water.” She placed her stack of books down on the only other desk in the cramped office with a heavy thump and a sigh of relief. She was still smiling at him. “I’ll make sure he gets them.”

“You don’t need to worry about finding a temporary vase. I think they’ll survive a few hours without water.” Shaw placed the flowers gently on the desk, setting the little card down atop the plastic where Charles was sure to see it. He turned around to face the woman, Charles’s contemporary, with an outstretched hand. “Thank you, miss…?”

“Moira. Just Moira.” She grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake. Her eyes tracked over to the colorful bunch of flowers on the desk. “I’m sure he’ll love them.”

“I sure hope so.”

\---

Shaw dug his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket to ward off the chill that was settling over his skin, but it was in vain. His phone suddenly decided to make its presence known. He groaned and pulled the damn thing out, fighting a curse against the cold air against his fingers and not bothering to check the caller ID. He was too cold for this right now, but he couldn’t afford to ignore calls. It was like the world was conspiring against him.

“Shaw.”

“Sir,” the icy voice of his secretary came in through the speaker. Emma was invaluable to his firm and really far too intelligent to be working as a mere secretary, but schooling was everything. He couldn’t have an untrained second-in-command officially on the roster. Emma had enough power as it was. “I know you said that you shouldn’t be bothered until eleven, but I wanted to let you know that your twelve o’clock just called to say that they’re running late.”

Shaw pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Clients had been shuffling around his schedule at the last minute for the past week and a half, and it was finally starting to get to him. At least he got to add a little extra to their fees whenever it happened. “Any word on the eleven fifteen?”

“Nothing, sir.”

He sighed. “So we can assume it’s a no-show?”

“I would assume so, sir.”

“Bill them anyway.”

“Already done, sir.”

Shaw grinned. “And that’s why you’re my girl.”

She went quiet, but Sebastian could hear her nails ticking along the wooden surface of the desk. She was mad at him.

“Emma,” he chided. She was jealous again. She knew what he was doing out here, courting this man, and she didn’t approve. It was almost sweet.

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

“You know I’m not.”

“You should remedy that. A beautiful girl like yourself shouldn’t be alone when the weather gets like this.”

“Like this, sir?” It was like she was being dense on purpose. Perhaps he should be the one to warm her bed tonight. She’d been hinting at him for a while to keep her company again. She was a good enough lay, and she did have blue eyes. Not quite the right shade, but close enough. Her fantastic tits would more than make up for that. He chuckled, and his breath swelled up in front of him in a thin plume of white.

“It’s fucking freezing out here, Emma.”

“If you say so, sir.” Emma never seemed to notice the elements unless it suited her. He should have known from that tiny little thing she’d worn in to the office today. Classy it certainly was, but it showed off more skin than most women would be comfortable with, even when the temperature was more forgiving. But Emma wasn’t most women.

“Ever the professional,” he laughed into the phone. It was probably going to snow again before he finally made it home tonight. Might as well make the best of it.

“Meet me after work, darling. I feel like celebrating.”

“And why is that, sir?”

“Because I have the most beautiful creature in the world at my fingertips, and I’m not going to let the opportunity go to waste.”

He could practically feel her smile over the line. Perfect. “I’m on my way back to the office now. Oh, and could you do me a favor, dearest?”

“What might that be, sir?”

“Could you look up the price of gardenias and where one might find some at this time of year? I know that they’re someone’s favorite flower, and I want to make her feel appreciated.”

“Yes, sir.”

\---

It was as cold as ever when Erik stepped inside the apartment that evening, and his face tightened into a frown as he shut the door behind him. The heater was still broken. He’d known it was far too early to get his hopes up, but just once he wanted to have the landlord get something fixed in a timely manner. Perhaps tomorrow. He sighed and tried to think of something else, anything else. The scent of something like pasta hit his nose. Charles must be cooking dinner. Erik allowed himself a brief snort of laughter at the thought. 

Even after all these years, Charles couldn’t make much outside of canned soup and coffee edible. Brilliant he may have been, but from the various home cooked meals he had subjected Erik to over the years, Erik was fully convinced that Charles could not make heads or tails of a simple recipe. Sometimes he wasn’t certain Charles knew how to turn on the oven without setting something on fire.

Erik grinned to himself and toed off his shoes. He’d best go rescue whatever it was Charles was attempting to make. Unless Raven was helping him, this was likely to turn into a disaster.

He made his way to the kitchen and leaned up against the doorframe, the sleeves of his jacket bunching up around his elbows. The kitchen was far warmer than the hall and filled with the aroma of cooking food. He could see a mug of tea set off to the side on the kitchen table, and Erik felt a hint of smug satisfaction once he saw the little used teabag resting beside it. Swamp water indeed. There was a vase of fresh flowers atop the table as well, a bright dash of color to light up the room. Charles must have picked them up on his way home. Erik tightened his grip on the roses in his hand. The flowers had definitely been a good idea.

His eyes tracked over to the counter, and his smile widened at the sight of Charles roughly peeling away the papery skin of a garlic clove with his fingers, his face drawn into an intense scowl. There were little red dots of tomato sauce littering the bare skin of his forearms as he muttered angrily to himself under his breath.

“Hello, Charles.”

Charles jumped, the garlic flipping around in his hands to land on the floor with a soft clatter. “Erik!” He placed a hand on his chest to even out his breathing as his brief moment of panic passed. “Don’t do that,” he said with a gentle smile. “You know I scare easy.”

“Of course I do. Scaring you is but one of the many services I provide.”

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Charles said with a light smile and a shake of his head. He bent down and picked up the fallen garlic. Thankfully he hadn’t yet managed to get it out of its skin. He wouldn’t need to clean it off from its trip to the floor.

“May I ask as to what it is you are doing?”

“Making dinner.”

“Mmhmm.” Erik unwound himself from the wall and placed the roses down on the table beside Charles’s tea. He stripped away his coat, draping it over the back of one of the chairs. “And how’s that working out for you?”

“Wonderfully,” Charles grumbled as his fingers slipped over the crinkled, papery garlic, his blunt nails scraping feebly past the edges.

Erik chuckled softly and walked up behind him, wrapping his arms about Charles’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to the warm skin of his neck. “Would you like some help, darling?”

“Perhaps.” Charles sighed and relaxed into Erik’s embrace. “If _someone_ is willing to help me.”

“Oh, this someone certainly is,” Erik murmured as he tightened his grip around Charles’s shoulders. “Go finish your tea, dear.” Charles loosened his hold on the garlic and reached up to brush his fingers against Erik’s hands.

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not in the slightest.” Erik grabbed Charles’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “Because otherwise it would mean I’d have to eat your cooking.”

Charles batted him away with a snort and untangled himself from Erik’s hold, making his way over to the table for his mug. He pulled the long sleeves of his sweater down around his fingertips to ward away the chill in the room. Erik picked up the garlic and began deftly working it free of its papery shell without a hitch, grinning at his boyfriend over his shoulder. Charles scoffed over his tea. “I have no idea how you do that.”

“Magic.” He set the peeled garlic aside and turned his attention to the neglected onion Charles had left beside the cutting board. “So where’s our little bird?”

Charles’s face drew into a frown. “Little…? Oh, you mean Raven.” He took a sip of his tea and looked out toward the hall. “She’s asleep right now. In her room. I figured that I’d go and wake her up once dinner was ready. She was a bit of a mess when I got home this afternoon, but I finally managed to calm her down. She was worried about her job.”

“Her job?”

“Yes.” Charles sighed. “She told me last night after you drifted off that she’d been waiting tables to help make ends meet. I think she was fired just before she wound up on our doorstep, but I was having trouble getting that out of her. She didn’t really seem like much for talking this afternoon. As I said, she was a bit of a mess.”

“I can imagine.” Before Charles knew it, the onion was cut into tiny, even chunks. The garlic quickly followed suit.

“You know it took me almost a half hour to get to where I was with all that?” He motioned at the chopped vegetables on the cutting board.

“And that’s why I’m the one who does the cooking, sweetheart.” Erik shot him a large, wolfish grin.

“Just because I’m not completely competent in the kitchen doesn’t mean you have the right to be smug about it.”

“It gives me every right to be smug.”

“Don’t let your head get too big, now. We don’t want you floating away before you finish dinner.” Charles chuckled as he looked down at the table. Erik saw him reach down to finger the soft petals of the roses he’d bought, and he stilled, his chest flushing with warmth.

“You like them?”

Charles was smiling at him, warm and beautiful and perfect. “I never knew I liked flowers so much before all this,” he replied, his voice light with laughter. “Do these have a card too?”

“As a matter of fact they do.” Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out a little slip of cardstock. He sauntered over to Charles and wrapped his arms around him again, passing him the card. Charles gently set his mug down on the table and plucked the thing from his fingers.

“Five, for every moment that I spend in your embrace,” Charles read aloud, his face broadening into an even bigger smile with every word. “You’re nothing but a sap, you know that?”

“I prefer the term ‘hopeless romantic.’ And you love it,” Erik laughed into Charles’s hair. “So where did you get those?” He gestured toward the colorful flowers at the center of the table. “They’re quite lovely. I didn’t think you had the color sense to pick out something with both red and orange in them.”

Charles laughed and pushed him away. “Well, that’s because I didn’t pick them out. _Someone_ decided to gift me with yet another flower delivery. According to Moira, this certain someone even managed to get a classy delivery service sent down to my office, suit and all,” he said with a wag of his eyebrows. Erik felt a chill run down his spine. He’d never sent any delivery service.

Charles walked over to the counter and grabbed his wallet, pulling out a little white card. “I wasn’t even sure what they were until I read your note.” He passed it over to Erik, his face still bright with a smile. “Ranunculus flowers, like buttercups. I looked them up online after I read the card. How very original of you to send them to me, Erik.”

Erik’s eyes traced over the typed words. Charles was speaking again, fingering the sunset-colored petals as he moved about the table, but Erik could hardly hear anything over the buzzing in his ears. “Charles.”

The colors he had been enjoying just a few seconds ago were now blurring his vision, twisting his stomach into an elaborate knot. This wasn’t right. It was a mistake. It had to be.

“Charles.”

_In the language of flowers, a ranunculus sends a message._

_Darling, you must know that I am ‘dazzled by your charms.’_

“Charles.” He reached out and grabbed the other man’s arm, finally catching his attention.

“What is it, Erik?” Charles sobered at the look on the taller man’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Charles, I didn’t write this.” Silence fell between them. The chill was spreading down Erik’s arms. His fingers were shaking slightly around the card.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Charles, but I know one thing’s for certain: I’ve never seen these flowers before.”

\---

An uncertain chuckle escaped Charles’s lips. “You’re joking, aren’t you?” When Erik stayed silent he tried again. “I mean, you _have_ been giving me flowers for our anniversary, yes?”

Erik nodded, eyeing the flowers with apprehension like they were primed to explode at any moment. He had been planning the roses for almost two months now. He had every note for every card secured into a little niche at the back of his mind and knew exactly what he wanted for the day of the anniversary. These flowers were definitely not part of it.

Charles ran his fingers through his hair with a frown and leaned up against the table. “Then who sent these?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t me, Charles.”

“But who else would want to send me flowers?” Charles asked softly. “I didn’t even know I liked flowers before you started this whole thing.”

Erik walked up to the plants and inspected them. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with them, just a bouquet of colorful flowers. Unaltered and perfectly harmless. He frowned. “You said these were delivered to your office?”

“Yes. Moira talked to the delivery guy. He apparently came and brought them before I made it in yesterday. Some fancy delivery service where they make the guys wear suits, if I remember correctly what she said.”

“Did she catch the name of the place?”

He shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

Erik leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe someone was being nice?” he offered up as a suggestion.

Charles pulled the sleeves of his sweater down over his fingers. He had a tendency of doing that when he was nervous. “But what about the note? It’s in exactly the same format as yours. That’s why I never questioned that they were from you.”

“Do you still have all of the cards I gave you?”

“Of course. I even had them with me today.” Charles stuffed his hand into the left pocket of his slacks, digging out the little slips of paper. He looked down at the little bundle in his fingers, a light smile working its way onto his face. “I kept all of them.”

His expression fell as he flipped through them, his eyes scanning over Erik’s rigid handwriting and the crisp font of the type. “But it seems there’s one missing: the first one you gave me. I can’t find it.” He sifted through them again, reading over each one.

“Do you think this might be a prank, then? Or an maybe an admirer at the university? It is fairly close to Valentines Day, Charles. Perhaps someone found the first card—you left it in your office or it fell out of your pocket or something—and whoever picked it up thought they were being sweet or funny by sending these. One of the other grad students or a kid from one of your classes last year, maybe.” He looked at the flowers again, his frown deepening. “I don’t know.”

“Erik.” Charles placed the notes on the counter and twisted the fabric of his sweater harder around his fingers. He could hear the bubbling water of the pasta as it threatened to boil over. He’d probably left it on the stove for too long, but his head was too full of other things right now to care. “You’ve only given me roses, correct?”

Erik looked up at him, his frown deepening. “Yes. Why? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I, ah, this isn’t the first batch of mystery flowers, then.”

“What do you mean?”

Charles sifted through the cards and handed one over to Erik to read before going back to worry at his sweater. “It was a small bouquet of tulips. I got them two days ago at work. Someone left them for me after my shift ended the day before, and Sean put them in my locker where they froze overnight. They were in pretty bad shape when I got to them, so I never brought them home. Tulips don’t really keep all that well anyway.”

Erik shook his head and placed the note back with the others. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t,” he said with a sigh. He looked at the spray of ranunculus sitting on the table. They really were very pretty, even if they were part of some elaborate joke.

Charles ran over the possibilities in his head of where the flowers could have come from, trying to work his head around Erik’s prank theory. Erik was right. He had to be. Everything about it seemed to fit.

It _was_ fairly close to Valentines Day, and flowers were certainly plentiful in shops right now. Most everyone at the café knew he was a grad student at the university, that he shared an office with Moira, who was a regular customer of theirs, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to leave him flowers in both places. Sean would probably have been more than willing to put the tulips in the back for him, regardless of who they were from, if only to see his reaction. Most everyone he saw on a daily basis knew he was seeing someone, even though a few of them had never met Erik in person. Charles talked about him often enough, so he could sort of see the amusement factor in it all, courting a taken man and all that. Tasteless, in his opinion, but the humor wasn’t completely lost on him. If this whole flower thing was a joke. He looked back at the table, at the colorful plants that he’d set there maybe an hour ago. It was only flowers, pretty ones at that. Someone probably thought they were being cute. Nothing to get worked up about, though thinking about it still made him a little nervous.

He twisted his sleeve a little more and suddenly found himself wrapped up in Erik’s arms, the man’s chest warm and firm against his back. He couldn’t help the tiny smile that inched its way over his lips as Erik pressed a kiss into his hair.

“It’ll be fine, Charles.

“I know, I know. It still bothers me a bit.” Charles nudged him with his shoulder but didn’t bother to move away. “Well, on another, more depressing note, I’m taking Raven to get the rest of her things tomorrow.”

Erik’s grip tightened a little. “You think that’s a good idea?”

“There was only so much she was able to take, Erik. It wasn’t like she had a lot of time to get out, and it was only her doing the hauling. She told me that he shouldn’t be around tomorrow morning, and she forgot a few documents and some personal affects. We were going to head over there after my shift finishes up.” He sighed at looked out the tiny kitchen window. Tiny crystals of ice were clinging to the little overhang above the glass, reflecting the colors of the setting sun and spreading them across the wall. It wasn’t supposed to snow again for another few days, but Charles had never put much faith in weather forecasts. Knowing his luck it would probably be raining on his way to work tomorrow morning or when he and Raven picked up the last of her things from her old place.

“Besides, it’s better she have someone there in case he does show up. I can’t have her face that alone, Erik. Not this time.” Not ever again, if he could help it.

Erik nodded into his shoulder and pressed a light kiss to his neck. “Whatever you think is best.”

A loud hissing suddenly filled the room, startling the pair apart. Charles rushed over to the stove where his pot of noodles was boiling over. He flicked off the heat and transferred the pot to another burner. He peered over the lip of the pot and looked at the pasta clumps inside with a grimace. “I guess I should start a new batch of noodles unless you want us to eat what is sure to be a delicious sauce over a clump of soggy, uh,” he scooped out a glob of the starchy mess, “whatever this is now. I suppose I should just leave the cooking to you from now on.”

Erik laughed, and Charles felt his mood lift at the sound. “Why don’t you go check on your sister? I’ll try and salvage this.”

Charles walked up to Erik, grabbed the fabric of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. “What would I ever do without you?”

Erik eyed the stove, a playful smile dancing across his lips. “Starve, probably. Or poison yourself.” Charles gave him one last kiss and headed down the hall to wake Raven.


	6. Chapter 6

Sebastian wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with him. Fixating on a person was nothing new to him, but this was different. Charles was something else. He was a special case. For reasons he couldn’t even begin to fathom, Shaw couldn’t get Charles out of his head, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he minded. The soft sweep of brown hair falling across the smooth white skin of an academic’s brow trailed him through the office. The scent of freshly-brewed coffee, just sweet enough to hide the bitter tang that usually lingered on his tongue, kept him up until all hours of the night. And those eyes. That beautiful blue haunted his every step, forever watching and waiting for him to make his move. Soon enough those eyes would look at him and him alone.

He had worried briefly that he’d miss seeing Charles today, coming in as late as he had to the café, even though he knew very little about the man’s schedule at all. That didn’t mean he wasn’t irritated with Emma for forcing him to follow up on the paperwork he’d neglected to look at yesterday. She was a cheeky little bitch sometimes, but he did have to admire her work ethic (and he had most definitely enjoyed her company last night) so he’d humored her, silently bemoaning his missed opportunity at seeing Charles again. Thankfully, he’d been wrong about the other man’s schedule, and Charles had been nothing but smiles as he fetched a cup of coffee for him, just the way he liked it.

He leaned his elbows further over the smooth expanse of the café table, letting the heat that seeped through the cardboard coffee cup warm his chilled fingers. He hated this time of year. The cold got to him every damn time. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. Perhaps he ought to look into moving somewhere warmer. Like Argentina. He’d always liked South America. Charles would like it there. The sun would much better suit him than the snow and would darken up the light dusting of freckles on his face quite nicely. Shaw wondered if he’d find freckles anywhere else on Charles’s body.

He lifted his gaze to the register at the front. Charles was smiling prettily at a woman as she paid him for her pastry, laughing softly at something Charles must have said to her. Probably some empty compliment to get her to leave him a tip in the change jar. Shaw studied her figure at a glance and smirked into his coffee. Yes, complimenting her would get the job done. A woman with that amount of fat on her needed every bit of praise she could get.

He let his mind wander a bit as he thought of the flowers sitting on his dining room table, beautiful and soft and white as snow. Gardenias. Emma had loved the ones he’d bought for her last night. Charles was sure to do the same and reward him accordingly. In due time, of course. The man _was_ still seeing someone as far as Sebastian knew—this Erik person he’d heard mentioned once or twice. Not that that would be much of a problem; all Shaw needed to do was sow the seeds of doubt, be there for Charles when everything fell apart, and everything would play out in his favor.

Charles would fall eventually. Every relationship had its weak points; they were never all that hard to find when one started looking for them, and Shaw was ready to exploit every last one if he had to if it meant him finally getting his hands on the oddly chatty stranger he’d met in the park. Had it really only been a few days? Sometimes it felt like he had known Charles his whole life. He felt his smile widen as his thoughts drifted back to the park. Charles had said that he and his lover had been fighting. Shaw just needed to dig down to the root of that problem and twist it to work in his favor. Charles deserved only the very best.

He shuddered at the thought of those beautiful blue eyes staring up at him in gratitude as he explored every inch of the man’s body. It was all Shaw could think about. He took another sip of his coffee, and he swore that he could taste the imprint of Charles’s fingers where they had snapped the lid to the rim.

The little bell above the door tinkled as yet another customer stepped inside. She was a pretty young thing, small and blonde and hugging her over-large coat to her like a shield as she made her way up to the register. Charles’s face lit up in surprise the second he saw her, piquing Shaw’s curiosity.

“Raven! I wasn’t expecting to see you so early. Why aren’t you at home? Is everything okay?” He didn’t move from behind the counter, but Shaw knew he was itching to draw her in close, if the worried expression on his face was any indication. He wondered who this woman was, what her connection was to Charles and, more importantly, why she seemed to be living with him. An old lover perhaps? A friend? Another colleague like that Moira woman at the university? He narrowed his eyes and watched the exchange, keeping his ears trained on every word he could pick up over the noise of the other café patrons.

“Sorry. I know I’m really early, but…” She was cut off for a moment by a few noisy teenagers as they stomped out the door into the cold. Shaw shot them a glare before turning his attention back to the pair at the front. “…so I came here.”

Charles didn’t seem completely satisfied with her answer, but he didn’t question it. “I’m not off for another hour or so. You could stay here if you want, but I warn you that it can get rather dull.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Charles suddenly looked out over the café, and Shaw ducked his head. Charles knew he was here of course—he’d been the one to make Shaw’s coffee—but he was certain the other man wouldn’t exactly appreciate someone honing in on his private conversation. He pretended to be absorbed in his drink while keeping his attention focused on Charles in the hope that he might catch a few more words between the pair, but he couldn’t catch anything. Damn.

He frowned into his coffee, biding his time. He needed to know who this woman was. Why she was meeting Charles at his work. Why she was living with him. He felt his grip tighten unconsciously around his cup. He didn’t know why he was getting so worked up over this.

A flash of navy caught his eye. The hem of the blonde woman’s jacket. He dared a look at her as she slid into one of the empty tables near him. She would have a perfect view of the street from where she sat. People watching to pass the time. His eyes darted to the front. Charles was still there, though his eyes stayed fixed on the mystery woman until a man came up to the counter to order a pastry.

Shaw turned his attention back to the woman and tried to ignore the odd burning feeling that was rising up in his gut. So. She knew Charles. Was probably someone close to him. Scratch that, she _had_ to be close to him if she was living with him. That thought made something inside him twist up yet again, but he buried it. She could be useful. She knew where Charles lived, and that was more than enough reason to approach her. He rose from his chair and made his way over to her table.

She was staring out the window as he approached, completely lost in thought. He cleared his throat to catch her attention, and she startled a bit before catching herself and looking up at him with a gentle smile. He nodded his head to the empty seat across from her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Ah, I uh, no. No, it’s fine.” She seemed skittish, ready to bolt at any time. He smiled disarmingly at her, hoping to ease the tension between them.

“I’m not trying to pick you up, and I’ll go if I’m making you uncomfortable. You simply looked lonely sitting over here by yourself, and the person I was supposed to meet never showed,” he lied smoothly. “I thought you might like some company.”

She cast another nervous glance at the chair and then back at him. “No, it’s fine. I’ve just had a bit of a rough morning is all.”

“Ah,” he said as he slid in across from her, setting his drink down on the table. “We’ve all had those. Mine hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing either. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really, no. I don’t make a habit of sharing my life story with strangers I just met.”

“Smart girl.”

He took a sip of his coffee and studied her as she fiddled with the plastic rim of her coffee cup, trying to look most anywhere but at her newfound companion. She was pretty enough, though the yellowing mark under her eye spoke volumes, and most of her clothes looked far too big for her and somewhat misshapen, like they were cut for a man. Interesting. “Are you waiting for someone?” he asked suddenly, drawing her out of her trance.

“Yeah, actually I am. My brother. He works here.”

“You don’t by chance mean Charles, do you?” He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to see the family resemblance. He never would have guessed the two were siblings, but then again, this new revelation made everything he’d heard seem far more plausible.

She frowned at him, her face darkening with suspicion. “Yeah. How did you know it was him?”

He shrugged. “Lucky guess. I saw him greet you as you walked in, and you seemed to know each other. He’s a nice guy, your brother.”

She looked down at her coffee, her fingers tightening around the thing cardboard. “Yeah, he is,” she said very softly, almost a whisper. Something in her voice broke then, giving the impression that she was going to burst into tears at any moment. Shit. That was the last thing he wanted.

He fumbled for an out, something he could do to turn this conversation around. Anything would do at this point. He glanced down at his jacket and grinned. Thank you, Emma.

He quickly unpinned the little white carnation pinned to the lapel of his jacket—Emma had insisted on him getting a few stems of the silly things last night and badgered him into wearing one of them today, even going so far as to call him before he left for the office to make sure he remembered. She always got hung up on the strangest things. Thankfully, this one would be of use to him.

The girl (Raven, was it?) looked up as he pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and pinned it in place with the flower. “There,” he said smiling as he pulled back into his seat. “I knew there was something missing when I saw you, but now you’re the picture of loveliness.”

Her hand went up to brush against the soft petals of the carnation. She still had shock painted over her face. “What—” She plucked the flower from her hair and stared at it in fascination before lifting her gaze to him. She was wound up tight now, tensed and ready to spring away at any moment. The flower was getting smothered under the pressure of her grip. “Why did you do that?”

“Because a beautiful woman deserves flowers, don’t you think?”

“I thought you said you weren’t trying to pick me up.”

He laughed a little at that. “I’m not. I am trying to cheer you up, however. A girl as lovely as you shouldn’t have to look so sad.”

That seemed to work. The tension melted away from her shoulders, and she relaxed with a small shake of her head. “We’ve been going about this all wrong.” She placed the slightly battered flower on the table and held out her hand for him to take. “Let’s start again. This time with proper introductions. My name is Raven. Raven Xavier.”

He took her hand and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles that made her cheeks light up in a heated blush. “Sebastian Shaw. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

\---

The words on the screen in front of him were starting to blur together into a horrible greyish mess. Erik ground his chin harder into the palm of his hand, grit his teeth together and tried to regain his focus. He wasn’t sure why he was having such a hard time getting things done today. Perhaps it was the cold that was throwing him off his game. Snow and ice had the tendency to make him somewhat sluggish and more irritable than normal, which reminded him that he needed to check up on the status of the heat in their building with their landlord. Charles was bound to forget. He rubbed his hand over his eyes and sighed; what he wouldn’t give for it to be four already. But really, he wasn’t really getting anything done. He might as well be home doing chores or running errands.

The shrill cry of the little black phone atop his desk snapped him awake, and he shot of straight in his chair, taking a moment to compose himself before picking up the receiver and answering with practiced ease.

“You’ve reached Erik Lehnsherr. How can I help you this morning?”

“Erik?”

“Charles?” This was unexpected. Erik glanced at the clock. Charles should have been off work by now, yes, but hadn’t he said he was helping Raven with something today? Getting the last of her things from her old place or something similar. Erik had figured that Charles would have been too busy with that to spare him a thought. And Charles sounded strangely breathy, like he had just gone for a run. Erik’s face pinched into a frown. “Is everything all right? You sound tired.”

“Everything’s fine. I’ve just been hauling Raven’s things about in the cold. Unpleasant and exhausting but nothing overly terrible.”

Erik felt himself relax a bit. He really was getting worked up about the stupidest things these days. He leaned back in his chair and cast his eyes about for any of his coworkers. Most of them wouldn’t mind him taking a brief personal call. Others (Esther) were another matter entirely. He seemed to be in the clear for now.

“So why are you calling, Charles? You almost never call my work number unless it’s important.”

“Your work num—oh, for Christ’s sake.” Charles was fumbling with the phone on his end, probably checking the ID to make sure Erik wasn’t messing with him. Charles tried to avoid calling Erik’s desk if he could help it, but every now and again he slipped. One of the many hazards of storing all of his contacts in his oversized brain instead of inside the phone itself.

 _Probably a good thing in the long run_ , Erik thought to himself as he listened to Charles find a way to get the phone back against his ear. Charles misplaced his phone so often it was embarrassing.

“I’m sorry, Erik. I know I’m not supposed to be calling this phone, but I guess I typed in the wrong—”

“It’s fine,” he said around the smile spreading across his face. “You’re a welcome distraction, actually.”

“I suppose this is a good thing, then.”

“Very much so.” Erik straightened up in his chair to stretch the kinks out of his back. “So why are you calling, dear? Did something happen with Raven, or—”

“No, no, nothing like that. I was just wondering if you would be willing to do me a favor this afternoon once you’re off work.”

“Oh? What kind of favor?” He lowered his voice seductively. “I love you, darling, but you know we have to be a little more discrete about these things now that we have a houseguest.”

He could practically feel Charles’s blush over the phone. “Nothing like _that_ , Erik. Get your mind out of the gutter. And contrary to what you might believe, I’m not always thinking about—oh be quiet, Raven.” Erik could hear Charles’s sister giggling in the background as she gently teased her brother about his sex life. He smiled. As frustrating as she could be at times, Erik had kind of missed Charles’s bratty little sister who had been something of a constant presence when he and Charles had first started dating. Hopefully she would take her time before falling into yet another bad relationship. Erik had no idea what exactly she was searching for, but she had a habit of picking the wrong people to do it with. Her teasing Charles was a good sign at the very least.

“No really, Charles. What was it you wanted me to do?”

“Could you drop by my office after work? You’re closer than me, and I’m going to be helping Raven…”

Erik frowned into the receiver. Charles was lying, and Erik wasn’t sure why. “It’s all right, Charles. Did you forget something there the other day?”

“Yes. Just some notes. I mean, it’s not overly important, but I can’t find the notebook I need at home, and I’d like to revise this section before I move on. I think I may have a few errors in my endnotes, and I’d like to verify my sources. I’m in no rush or anything, but it would be nice to—”

“It’s fine, Charles. Can you give me an idea of where you might have stashed it so I’m not blindly dashing about your office like a fool?”

“I think I left my on my chair, but I could have shoved it in with the rest of the ones on my shelf. Maybe in my desk drawer. I’m really not sure.”

“Is this your black notebook or the green one?” Those were the two he had seen Charles carrying around as of late.

“Green, so it shouldn’t be too hard to pick out if I did manage to hide it. I’m really sorry about this, Erik. You don’t have to look for it if you don’t want to. I could just run over there myself.”

“No, no, I told you it was fine. As you said, I’m much closer to the university than you right now anyway, and I only have a few hours left before I can get out of here; it’s really not that much of a hassle. And you forget that I know your study habits. You’re sure to be up all night trying to figure out what little tidbits of information you’re missing if I don’t some effort to find it.”

Charles couldn’t argue with that. Erik leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand once more. “Besides,” he said with a low chuckle, “I’m expecting a generous reward when I get home for rescuing your beloved notes from Moira’s grasp.”

“I’m sure I could come up with a suitable reward for my note-saving hero.”

Erik chuckled softly into the receiver. He needed to get back to work before someone came and figured out whom he’d been talking to for the last ten minutes. “I look forward to it.”

\---

The hall was empty as Erik made his way down to Charles’s office. His footsteps echoed strangely in his ears, making him uncomfortable even though he knew most everyone would be gone by now. He quickly found Charles’s door and tried the handle. The door swung open easily, and he half expected to see Moira sitting at her desk, her reading glasses carefully perched atop her nose as she poured over a stack of student papers, but she was nowhere to be found. He was alone.

He shook his head and shut the door behind him, flicking the switch on the wall and flooding the room with light. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Charles’s desk.

Flowers.

Soft and white and arranged beautifully in a pale green vase. He stomped over to the desk and picked up the little white card propped up against the vase, hoping for some clue to who the hell was doing this.

_Gardenias for a secret._

_I love you, darling._

_I love you._

Huh. They hadn’t even bothered to copy his layout this time.

The little piece of cardstock crumpled a bit in his hand. He angrily shoved it into his pocket and glared at the bouquet. Whoever the hell was doing this was certainly persistent. Charles’s notebook was sitting atop his chair where he’d left it. Erik grabbed it and tucked it up under his arm with a scowl.

He snatched the vase from the desk by its neck and stormed out of the room. He threw it into the large trash can at the end of the hall and couldn’t help the feeling of satisfaction rise up in him at the sound of the glass shattering against the bottom of it with a heady crack. The card weighed heavy in his pocket, and as much as he wanted to tear it into confetti, he might need it later. It was evidence.

He gripped the notebook a little tighter, trying to ignore the hard knot at the base of his throat. He hated college students and their stupid pranks.

\---

Charles leaned forward over the counter, feeling the full force of his exhaustion as it finally caught up with him. In hindsight, helping Raven move her things back to the apartment immediately after work hadn’t been the brightest idea. He stretched his arms out and groped for his mug of tea, drawing it close for warmth. The heat was still broken. He needed to speak to the landlord like he’d promised Erik he would. One more thing to add to his list of things to do.

He shifted, wincing a bit at the prickle in his calves as the feeling came back to his legs. The cold of the kitchen floor had seeped through the bare skin of his feet some time ago; he could hardly feel his toes anymore. _I really ought to put on some socks_ , he mused. But the bedroom was a ways off, and it was currently taking all of his effort to simply stand in place. Best not to push his luck.

The kettle rattled faintly on the stove from where he hadn’t bothered to move it, and beneath its chatter he could pick out the faint murmur of the television in the other room. Raven was watching the news from the sound of it. She had been moody ever since they had made it back home, something he hoped a little time and space would improve. She was fully aware that this latest boyfriend had been bad news, but something in her bristled at the thought of letting him go. He sighed and pillowed his chin in his folded arms. It pained him to see his sister this way.

Thank god for Sebastian. The man had come in for his morning coffee as he had been doing for a little while now. Charles had to smile a bit at that, he had managed to convert a self-proclaimed hater of coffee into a man who could barely go a day without a cup. When Charles’s shift had finally ended and Martin, his beast of a manager, had finally let him leave after a small lecture about tardiness (damn Tom and his big mouth), he had found Raven chatting—laughing, smiling—with one Sebastian Shaw. Raven had never been a shy girl, but Charles had feared that this last boyfriend of hers had truly broken something in her. Seeing her warm up to someone was oddly comforting, and Sebastian was safe, a friend. He’d been nothing but kind to Charles thus far, and he had managed to put a smile on Raven’s face. Hell, she probably would be in a worse state than she was now if Shaw hadn’t spoken to her this morning.

The light chime of his phone startled him out of his daze and he sat up in his chair, glancing sharply around the room to pinpoint the source of the noise. His coat pocket. Of course. He padded over to the kitchen table and rifled through the jacket he’d left draped on the back of his favored chair. Ah, there. He pulled out the phone and answered the call, not bothering to glance at the number on the screen. It was probably Erik letting him know he’d be home later than he’d expected or he couldn’t find Charles’s notes or something else equally horrible to make his day that much more miserable. Or maybe a solicitor. He hated those the most. He pressed the phone up against his ear and walked back to the counter for his tea.

“This is Charles.”

There was nothing but silence on the other end. Perhaps they hadn’t hear him answer. “Hello?” He was met with empty, hollow space.

He briefly pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it with a frown. The call was still active; the person on the other line was still there. Odd. Maybe it was a bad signal or something. He shuffled closer to the window over the sink, hoping that the new position might help smooth things out. Sometimes the reception in the apartment was a bit fuzzy. That might be it. “Hello?” he tried again. “Is anybody there?”

Someone was. He could hear the faint crackle of the other person’s breath against the speaker. At least, it sounded like someone breathing; it was certainly rhythmic enough, but he could be mistaken. It could simply be static, nothing more. Or this could be some sort of prank. His frown deepened.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

“Is somebody there? This isn’t funny.”

“Charles?”

He jumped at the sudden intrusion of Raven’s voice, and his phone slipped from his fingers to land with a clatter on the floor. “Shit,” he hissed softly under his breath as he crouched down to pick it up. The call had ended. His frown hardened at the small blinking numbers mocking him with the scant seconds marking the time of the call from start to finish. He set the phone down and rose to his feet, swiping a hand through his hair to center himself. His heart was still racing from the shock of Raven’s sudden appearance.

“Raven, please don’t sneak up on me like that. You know I hate it when people do that.” He looked at her just then, hoping his frustration at the dropped call hadn’t bled into his voice too much. No such luck if her expression was any clue. Raven’s shoulders had gone stiff and her body wound tight as a drum as she fixed her eyes on his face, almost as though she were gearing up for a fight. Perhaps she was.

“Sorry to be such a bother, Charles,” she spat. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

Charles let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not mad, Raven.”

“Yes, you are. Don’t bother to hide it with that thing you do.” She waved her fingers in front of her. “You know how much I hate that.”

“What thing?” He knew it. She was trying to pick a fight.

“Don’t act like you don’t know. That thing you do with your voice to try and get me to calm down. It won’t work.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. That would only make her angrier in the long run. “I don’t want to fight, Raven, especially when I’m not even sure what we’re supposed to be fighting about. What was it you wanted?”

“Never mind,“ she grumbled. She turned to leave, but Charles stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice the way she flinched at his touch.

“Raven, I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

She suddenly deflated, wiping a hand over her face before turning around to face him. The anger had drained away like water though her fingers. “I’m sorry, Charles. I just—what am I going to do now?”

Charles said nothing. He had no answer for her. He sighed and pulled her flush against his chest. She grabbed at the sleeves of his sweater, hoping to find her ground. “What if…” She swallowed, choking a bit on her words. “What if no one wants me anymore?”

“Why would you ever think that?”

“Because I’m so messed up. I can’t do anything right, Charles.”

“Yes, you can.” He drew away from her, keeping his hands tight on her shoulders, and fixed her with a warm smile. “You’re smart. You’re beautiful. If you still want that big, epic romance you’ve been telling me about since you were eight…” She shoved him lightly with the faintest hints of a smile, and he chuckled lightly, loosening his grip on her. “If you still want that, Raven, some man is going to see just how wonderful you are and sweep you off your feet.”

“Because that’s what happened to you, right?”

“Well, if you count running into one another on the street and dropping the groceries for the week as being swept off one’s feet, then I guess that’s true.”

He got a light giggle out of that, and the mood began to lighten. He wound his arm around her sounders and led her over to the kitchen table. “So, what was it you needed from me?”

“I just wanted to, ah, ask if I could, well, actually I…”

Charles’s eyebrow raised in suspicion. He hated when she stalled for time in a conversation; it usually meant trouble. “What?”

“I wanted to ask if I could use your phone,” she said in a rush. “That guy I met today, at the café. Mr. Shaw. I sort of gave him your number.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because he said that if I needed someone to talk to, he was willing to listen. You know I don’t have a phone right now, so how else was I going to contact him? Magic?”

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. She did have a point, and Sebastian was harmless. That didn’t excuse her from going over his head and giving away his personal information, but he could at least follow her logic with this one. There was just one thing he didn’t understand. “Why are you scouting for men so soon after the last one?” He looked up to see the scowl on her face. He didn’t mean for it to come out so crude, but there was no getting around it, really. Sebastian was being nice, and, if Charles knew Raven, he was going to end up a rebound with a broken heart. He really didn’t want to lose the man as a customer. “Well?”

“I’m not looking to date him. I mean, he’s okay looking and stuff, and he was really nice to me, but I don’t want a relationship right now. It’s just that there are times when I don’t want to talk to you about things, and anything I say to Erik, well, he’s probably going to tell you when I’m out of earshot.”

“That’s not—”

“You know it’s true. You can weasel things out of that man that I bet his own mother never knew.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just let me have this. I promise not to abuse it or anything. Besides, you seemed to know him, like him even, so I figured he was safe.”

Charles nodded. Sebastian was safe as far as he could tell, and Charles knew first-hand that he was a good listener. It was only phone calls. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll live with it for now, but this weekend I’m going to get you a new phone.”

“Charles…”

“Before you say it, I want you to know that it’s not charity. I don’t like the idea of not being able to contact you. We’ll transfer the bill over to your name once you get back on your feet, all right?”

She smiled at him. “It’s a deal.”


	7. Chapter 7

Christ, it was cold out there. Sebastian peeled off his jacket as his made his way into his apartment, dropping his keys into the bowl he kept beside the door with a loud clatter. He flicked on the light and found Riptide was watching him from his perch atop the couch.

He walked over to the cat and ran a hand over the smooth fur of his head, eliciting the small beginnings of a whispery purr. “Spoiled thing,” he murmured softly as he rubbed Riptide’s ear between his fingers. He could see tiny grey lines of fur dotting the white surface of the couch, and he sighed in irritation. He would have to vacuum again. “Sometimes I wonder why I bother keeping you around.” The cat only purred in response.

Sebastian shook his head and made his way to the kitchen, Riptide close on his heels if the soft thud on the carpet behind him was any indication. Dinner was the next order of business, but deciding what to do was far too taxing at the moment. He leaned against the kitchen counter with a sigh and rolled his head about on his shoulders, loosing up the stiffness in his neck. It had been a long day, but at least some good had come out of it. The Copperfield account was set to go through, and that incompetent intern, McCoy or something, had finally been let go. He had no idea what he had seen in the boy when he’d hired him on. Poor bastard couldn’t do anything right. At least they weren’t losing much money on him.

He glanced over to the window and spotted the amaryllis plant he had bought on a whim a few days ago. The red of its flowers seemed to glow against the little flecks of snow lazily falling outside. Beautiful. As much as he hated the cold, he had always rather liked the snow. Something about it was very calming. A light layer of frost was creeping up the side of the glass, staining the window with tendrils of white. It reminded him of the gardenias he had bought for Emma the other night. And the ones he had picked out for Charles. He wondered if the man had liked them. Shaw started to imagine the look on Charles’s face when he found the flowers on his desk. He probably smiled when he saw them. Charles was always so lovely when he smiled.

A sudden surge of longing rose up in him to see Charles’s face when he received a new batch of flowers; Shaw wanted to experience his gratitude in person. He was going to have to stop giving his gifts anonymously.

He thought back to Charles at the coffee shop and the way the man’s mouth wrapped around every syllable of his name.

_Hello, Mr. Shaw. It’s good to see you again._

He smiled at the memory. Mr. Shaw. Always so formal. Charles’s voice was ringing in his ears now, saying each and every one of Shaw’s fantasies aloud.

_I want you, Mr. Shaw. I need you._

_You’re the only one I want. No one else._

He closed his eyes and pictured Charles’s face, his cheeks flush and his pupils blown in the throws of passion, the black almost drowning out that beautiful, beautiful blue.

_I need you to touch me, hold me, love me._

_I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name._

Riptide was weaving around his legs, begging for more attention, and Sebastian gently shoved him away with his foot. He didn’t have the patience to deal with him right now.

He needed Charles, needed to talk to him, hear him say something. Anything, really. It might help get rid of the phantom in his head.

Sebastian reached into his pants pocket and dug out the small cell phone he’d bought after leaving the café. Is was an ugly little thing, outdated and cheap, but it would get the job done. Prepaid, nothing to trace back to him. Perfect. He walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. His legs were shaking bad enough now that he feared he might fall over if he stayed against the counter.

He had already committed the number Raven had given to him this morning to memory, and his heart began to pound loudly in his chest as he punched in the numbers. She had been so apologetic about not having a phone, but that was fine. More than fine. She had access to her brother’s. He pressed the phone up against his ear and tensed at the faint, tinny ringing that signaled the call going through. It was embarrassing, really. He was behaving like a teenage girl acting out on her first crush, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about Charles that excited him more than anyone else had in quite some time. The feeling was electrifying and horribly, horribly addicting.

It didn’t take Charles long to pick up once the phone began to ring. “This is Charles.” And Shaw couldn’t breathe.

“Hello?” It was even better than he’d imagined. The Charles in his head did no justice to the real thing.

“Hello? Is anybody there?” His breath came back to him all at once, hard and heavy like he had been running a marathon, and he fought to stay quiet. Panting over the phone was reserved for perverts and those idiots that put their dogs on the line to ‘talk’ to loved ones. Shaw wasn’t some creep.

He heard Charles moving around through the speaker and felt heat rising up in his belly. He would do almost anything at this point to get Charles to keep talking.

“Hello?”

Sebastian moved his free hand to his belt, and he fumbled with the buckle, his fingers clumsy in their desperation. He bit back a groan as his hand accidentally brushed the fly of his slacks. _Keep talking, Charles. Just keep talking._ Those big blue eyes were calling to him. He could see Charles clearly in his mind’s eye, chatting to him on the phone like lovers were supposed to do.

“Is somebody there?” His belt came free. The button and zipper were almost too easy after that. “This really isn’t funny.”

There was a muffled sound in the background on Charles’s side of the line, a woman’s voice, and a horrible crack rang in his ears. Shit. Shaw quickly ended the call, slamming the phone to the table with a bang. The harsh sound of his panting breath filled the kitchen as he tried to calm down. He leaned forward over the table and buried his head in his hands. It was almost too much.

Riptide brushed up against his calf, and he dazedly reached down to run his hand over the cat’s back. It was a welcome distraction from the steadily growing ache of arousal that hadn’t managed to leave in his panic. This wasn’t working. Seeing the man in the coffee shop had worked for a while, and this call had been exhilarating, but it wasn’t enough. Sebastian liked to think himself a patient man, but wooing Charles Xavier was going to be the death of him if he couldn’t touch. That day couldn’t come soon enough.

He flopped back in his chair, his hand still lazily petting the cat at his feet. He was going crazy; he had to be. He had lusted after women before, but this man was doing things to him that he couldn’t even put a name to, and he had only known him for a few days. No one had ever made him feel quite like this.

Perhaps this was what people meant when they talked about falling in love.

What to do. He wanted Charles, and Charles obviously wanted him back; who wouldn’t? Sebastian was smart, handsome, successful. Even Emma, who could have any man she wanted at her feet with nothing more than a snap of her fingers, wanted him above anyone else to warm her bed at night. Of course Charles wanted him. He was only holding back because of his other lover, the one who picked fights with him over nothing. It was painfully obvious.

And really, there had to be something more to those smiles Charles graced him with every morning at the café. Surely it meant something when their fingers brushed together as Charles handed him his coffee. This mystery man, Erik, that Charles was supposedly seeing wasn’t even a factor. Nothing could stand in the way of something like this. Shaw just needed to up his game—show Charles that he was serious about this.

He brushed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead and rose from the table, not bothering to refasten his fly. A quick shower would take care of that easily enough, and then he could plan his next gift.

\---

Erik woke to the harsh cries of Charles’s alarm, and he shoved his face into his pillow to drown out the noise. As far as he was concerned, it was too early to be awake now, but that stupid soulless machine had pity for no one. Three a.m., no exceptions. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but Charles more often than not forgot to reset the damn thing on his days off. The beeps pounded into his skull even through the barrier of his pillow. Fuck, it was too early to even be alive right now. The mattress shifted as Charles moved to turn off the alarm, and the cold crept under the sheets quickly in his absence. The room went entirely still for a moment before Charles collapsed back on the bed with a sigh. Erik rose up on his arms and looked at him, his brow bunched in concern.

“You okay?” He kept his voice low, but even the soft hush of his voice felt too loud in the sudden silence that had washed over the room. He had never really liked the idea of being loud in the dark anyway.

Charles ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Just tired,” he mumbled back. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“Mmm.” Erik sat up and pushed away the covers, ignoring the chill that wrapped around his exposed skin. He shuffled over to Charles and wrapped his arms around him before pressing a soft kiss to Charles’s neck. “Anything I can do to help?”

Charles was smiling now, and Erik allowed himself a little grin of victory for managing to lift the mood. “Well, you can stop that for one. Otherwise I might not make it in to work today.”

“You could always call in sick,” he murmured into Charles’s shoulder.

Charles playfully shoved him away, and Erik fell back to the bed, his face still lit up in a grin. He lifted himself up on his elbows and cheekily quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a yes?”

Charles turned around to face him, his smile now tinged with the slightest hint of regret. “As much as I’d love to lounge here in bed with you all morning, darling, I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline. You know no one would want to take my horrendous shift at a moment’s notice.”

Erik snorted his disapproval, and Charles let out a breathy chuckle. They’d barely touched in the past week, and Erik was fairly sure he was going to spontaneously combust if this wasn’t remedied soon, like in the next few minutes. Charles, it seemed, wasn’t wholly oblivious to his plight. He crawled across the bed and settled over Erik’s hips, his thighs pinning the man in place. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Erik’s lips, and Erik let himself melt under the warmth of Charles’s body with a groan. God, he had missed doing things like this over the past few days. He hated it when the universe decided that they should see as little of each other as possible.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t be up for some fooling around when I get home, mind.” Charles traced a finger over Erik’s chest, and Erik laughed at the touch. He reached up and pulled Charles in for another brief kiss. “Then go get yourself in the shower before I make you late for work again, you tease,” he replied with a light push. Charles laughed softly, disentangled himself from Erik and made his way toward the bathroom.

Erik threw an arm over his eyes and watched a swirl of muted colors dance behind his eyelids. His hopes of getting back to sleep quickly were rapidly dissipating; he couldn’t get his mind to turn off and let him be. Saturday mornings were always the worst. Charles still had to work his ridiculously early shift, leaving Erik to his own devices until noon. He should take Charles out to lunch today. Charles would like that.

There was a light thump off to his left. He heard something—someone—moving on the other side of the wall. He was up like a shot, any lingering tiredness suddenly forgotten. Someone had gotten into the apartment.

There was another thump and a soft, feminine curse, and Erik remembered. Raven. That’s right, she was living with them now. Charles’s alarm must have woken her up. He grunted in frustration and pushed himself up from the bed, thankful for perhaps the first time in his life that Charles had broken him of the habit of sleeping naked.

He walked out into the hallway, cursing the cold silently under his breath. The kitchen light was on. He wondered if she was trying to brew herself some coffee or something. He was going to steal some if she was.

Raven was seated at the kitchen table, her head pillowed her arms and her hair all askew. Erik leaned against the wall with a grin. “Too early for you?”

She raised her head and scowled at him, earning her a soft chuckle.

Erik walked over to the coffee maker—Raven hadn’t bothered to do anything after stumbling in here it seemed—and pulled out the pot. “I’m amazed you managed to sleep through it yesterday.”

“Didn’t hear it yesterday,” she mumbled into the sleeve of her robe. “And it’s _Saturday_ , Erik. No one should be awake this early on a Saturday.”

“You could always go back to bed.” Coffee grounds, filter, water. Was there anything he was missing?

“And you could always go to hell.”

“My, my. Aren’t we a peach in the morning.”

She shoved herself away from the table with a grunt and stormed back to her room. Erik shook his head and let her go. He didn’t like being up at this time of day either, but there was no way he was getting back to sleep now. The coffee maker was now quietly puttering away. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest to ward off the chill. He ought to go put on a shirt, but the effort of walking to the bedroom and back seemed far too monumental a task for the moment. The cold wasn’t too bad, really. He’d live with it.

The colorful mystery flowers Charles had received the other day were still sitting on the table, and Erik felt something rise unbidden in his gut. They really were beautiful, even if they were nothing more than a practical joke. The fact that the deliveries hadn’t stopped was a little worrisome, but it was only flowers. It wasn’t as though someone was sending Charles sealed envelopes filled with white powder. But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. He wandered over to the table and rubbed one of the soft orange petals in between his fingers. Charles was keeping his roses at their bedside, far more personal than these. He wondered if Charles was only keeping the flowers on the table around out of guilt. He tended to fret when throwing something away.

The soft tones of Charles’s phone reached his ears. Erik glanced at the clock; it wasn’t even three thirty yet. Who in the hell would be calling at this hour? He frowned and picked up the device from its resting place on the table. He didn’t recognize the number. Maybe it was one of Charles’s coworkers. Charles was still in the shower judging from the faint humming of the pipes in the walls. Erik sighed and punched in Charles’s passcode. Charles would be mad at him if he purposefully ignored an important call.

“Hello?”

The line went dead as soon as the word left his lips. Erik blinked in confusion and stared at the phone in his hand for a moment before snapping it shut. “Probably a wrong number.”

\---

As much as he hated the cold air inside the apartment, the icy bite of the wind outside felt good against his skin. Erik had yet to find a better way to get his thoughts in order than an early morning run, even if he had been awake for a few hours now. The sun was just barely beginning to creep up behind the blanket of clouds, making it far easier to tell where he was going. The streetlights did their job well, but the added light made him far more secure in telling whether or not he was going to run into another patch of ice. That was an experience he’d rather not repeat.

Erik checked his watch as he turned the corner. Almost six. Perhaps Raven wouldn’t be so grumpy now. He’d make her breakfast if she decided she wanted to be civil. He slowed his pace as he reached the base of the steps of their building. As much as he wanted to gradually slow his heart rate, he didn’t feel like risking a fall from a misstep on the thin layer of ice coating the stairs. His breath puffed out before him like great clouds of smoke as he climbed. A hot shower was sounding very good right about now.

He rounded the corner and dug into his pocket for his keys. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw it. There, just outside the door was a little glass vase of yellow flowers.

\---

Charles blinked against the harsh bite of the wind, fighting to keep the moisture building in his eyes from spilling onto his cheeks. He hated mornings like this when the streetlights did little to light his path and the wind stole his breath away. The windows of the café were lit form the inside, and Charles cursed into the collar of his jacket. If the lights were on, he was probably late, but he didn’t want to bother pulling out his phone to check the time. It was too cold for that, and if he was running behind, then knowing exactly how late he was would do him no good. He quickened his pace, spurring his legs into a light jog.

He tested the door handle to see if Tom had left it open for him. The door stuck a little, but he was able to slip inside without too much trouble. The warmth of the building hit him like a battering ram and had him stumbling for a moment as he shut out the cold.

“It’s me, Tom,” Charles yelled as he shrugged off his coat. He rolled it up into a bundle around the bulge of his wallet and cell phone in the pocket and tucked it up under his arm. There was no response, but that was fairly typical. He made his way up to the front to check and see if Tom had started making the pastries for the morning rush. It wasn’t promising—Charles couldn’t smell a thing—but then again, Tom might have just gotten in.

He wandered up to the front, expecting to see his partner readying the cash register or wiping down tables, but instead he found his manager ready and waiting for him.

“Oh. Martin. Hi. I wasn’t expecting—”

“I know you weren’t,” Martin said roughly, cutting Charles off. His arms were crossed over the front of his uniform, his face cold and hard like he was preparing for a fight. “You and I need to have a talk, Charles.” He walked over to one the tables, not bothering to so much as glance Charles’s way until he was seated.

There was little else he could do at this point except follow. Charles sighed as he slid into the stiff wooden chair, wedging his bundled coat up between his thigh and the wall. He leaned forward over the table onto his elbows and folded his hands in front of him. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Your performance, Charles.”

Charles felt himself bristling. “What about my performance?” Martin had never liked him, and Charles for the life of him couldn’t figure out why. He was a hard worker, did his best to show up on time and tried to make up for it when he did happen to slip in a few minutes late. The customers seemed to like him, and he had managed to rake in some decent tips as of late, even though tipping was often one of the last things on the minds of those who frequented the shop. What the hell else did Martin want from him?

“Look, I know you think you have the world in your pocket because your daddy left you a nice fat trust fund—”

“Wait, this is about my father’s money?”

Martin’s expression darkened at Charles’s interjection. “—but this is the real world, Xavier. People actually do have to work to make a living.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m not living off my inheritance. Where the hell did you get that idea?”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

Charles scowled at him but kept his mouth shut. Charles knew there was no way he was going to get through to Martin now that he knew the other man believed him to think this job was a joke or nothing more than something to pass the time since he came from old money.

Martin cleared his throat and began again. “As I was saying, this is a real job, and I need you to start acting like it is. You’re unprofessional and costing us money. Don’t think I don’t hear what your coworkers say about you.”

 _Funny_ , Charles noted, _how he isn’t elaborating on that point. I wonder what part of my behavior has been deemed ‘unprofessional.’_

“There are only so many chances I can give. Be sure to use the ones you have left wisely.”

“Will that be all, sir?” He knew Marin liked the title, liked the feeling of authority he got whenever anyone called him that, and Charles could already see the swell of pride rising in the man’s chest.

“Yes, Charles. Get started on the pastries. Sean will be in a little late.”

“Sean? He doesn’t work the morning shift.”

“He’s filling in for Tom. He called in sick this morning.”

“Oh. Will you be staying, sir?” Martin was in street clothes, although, knowing him, he probably had an extra uniform stashed in the back somewhere. “I don’t remember seeing your name on the schedule for this morning either.”

“No. I just wanted to be sure I got the chance to talk to you. And I felt it would be kinder to do it when your coworkers weren’t around to listen in.”

“You’re very considerate, sir.”

“Well, go,” Martin waved him off with a lightly suppressed yawn. Even though he was always harping on Charles for being late, he rarely made an appearance before six himself.

Charles grabbed his coat and made for the back without another word, not letting his frustration show on his face until he was well out of Martin’s sight.

\---

Charles’s feet were aching. Saturday mornings at the café were by far the worst and even more so when your partner wasn’t used to being awake before nine o’clock. He liked Sean, he really did, but when he couldn’t trust him to accurately punch in the orders of four customers in a row, Charles wanted nothing more than to throttle the kid.

The apartment came into view, and his shoulders slumped in relief. Erik. He would be there, waiting for him on the couch, and make this horrible mess of a day better. Charles reached into his pocket and drew out his phone to check the time. He was met with a little blinking message letting him know that he had apparently missed six calls. He quickened his pace and punched in his passcode, hoping that Erik hadn’t been trying to call him about some emergency.

But there wasn’t a single voicemail. Just the missed calls, one after another and all about a half hour apart from one another. He frowned and checked the number. Erik almost always left a message, but Raven was hit or miss on that. Maybe she had nicked Erik’s phone and tried to call him or something. The calls were all from the same number, but it was one he didn’t recognize. Strange. Maybe she had borrowed a phone from a friend? A persistent telemarketer? There was no telling, really.

He shook his head and climbed up the stairs, the thought of Erik distracting him from the mystery calls. His keys rattled a little against the lock as he let himself inside. The first thing he noticed as he stepped through the door was that the place was _warm_. Warmer than it had been in a long while. A small smile crept across his face. Erik must have finally gotten around to talking to the landlord. Charles slipped out of his shoes and made his way down the hall, pulling off his jacket as he went.

“Erik?”

There was no response. Charles wondered briefly if he was even home, but dashed the thought the second he heard footsteps coming toward him from the bedroom. “Erik?” he tried again.

“Charles.” Erik’s smile had Charles melting. He had a bundle of roses in his hand. Eight for today. “I was wondering when you were getting home.”

Charles shifted his jacket about in the crook of his arm and let the soft feel of the carpet wrap around his feet. “I see you finally got around to getting the heat turned back on? It wasn’t too much of a hassle, I hope.” His eyes caught sight of the bundle of roses clenched tight in Erik’s hand, and he smiled, relaxing. All the trouble at work didn’t seem so pressing now.

“Those for me?” Charles nodded toward the flowers, and Erik only smiled with a little roll of his eyes.

“No, dearest. I got them for your sister. Of course they’re for you. Here.” he handed them over along with a little white card.

_Eight, your favorite number, just to make you smile._

“And how do you know it’s my favorite number?”

Erik walked up to him and placed his hands on Charles’s hips. He leaned down to press their foreheads together. “Because you told me. Said it was your lucky number since you were seven years old and your grandfather gave you his prized marbles that Cain never quite managed to steal from you.” He leaned forward and covered Charles’s mouth with his own in a quick kiss. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Do you want to go out to lunch? I’ve got a little extra cash, and your sister is out gallivanting around—”

“Where is Raven, by the way? I didn’t see her when I came in.”

“A man came by to pick her up about an hour ago. Said he knew her from the coffee shop? Something like that. She seemed happy to see him and he wasn’t exactly threatening, so I didn’t question it.”

“If it’s who I think it is, then she’s safe. He’s a good man.”

Erik raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t press for a name. It really wasn’t any of his business. “So then, lunch? I don’t mind whipping something up here if you don’t want to go back out. It looks pretty cold out there.”

“It is.” Charles suddenly grabbed the front of Erik’s shirt around the roses in his hand and pulled him down for a searing kiss. “But since we have the place to ourselves, and you so graciously got our heat back in working order, I was thinking of something a little different. A thank you of sorts,” he whispered with a smile as they pulled apart for breath. “How do you feel about finishing what we started this morning?”

Erik’s grin was positively feral at that, and his grip around Charles’s waist tightened significantly.

“I could go for that.”


End file.
